Ashes to Ashes Evidence
by Blue-Jackal
Summary: The calendar on the wall counting down to the car bomb, the newspaper clippings of the Prices', the Price's phone number on a scrap of paper. Alex is arrested for the murders of Tim and Caroline Price...and the circumstantial evidence doesn't look good
1. Suspect

There was nothing much on the television that evening and Alex Drake sat relaxing on her sofa with what remained of a hot mug of tea.  
She had not long ago finished work and had decided she would have half and hour or so to herself, and maybe grab a snack, before going down to Luigi's to join the rest of the team from CID for the usual evening of drinks.  
With nothing on the television, Alex leant over to pick up a magazine she had discarded on the floor the previous evening.  
"That's odd...", Alex muttered.  
There was no magazine on the floor, only her white boots which she had casually chucked to one side upon her arrival back at her flat after work.  
Alex looked around, mystified as to where she had put it.  
She was sure she had tossed it on the floor last night, absolutely certain.  
Alex got up and looked around the room. The lights were down low in a relaxing atmosphere.  
There it was, on the other side of the room.  
The magazine sat near the wall upon which hung the calendars Alex had been marking off, day by day, up to the date of the Prices' murder. The murder she had been unable to prevent.  
Despite failing, she hadn't taken it down. It, the newspaper clippings and the Prices' telephone number which she had taken from the body of Martin Kennedy were still stuck to the wall.  
Alex frowned, confused. There was no way she had put the magazine there or even dropped it.  
Slowly, she wandered into her kitchen and looked around.  
Things didn't look quite right there either.  
A coffee jar was slightly more to the left than it should be, a folder of paperwork that she had meant to return to the office last week looked as if it had been opened up and flicked through.  
The more she looked, the more she found.  
It was just small things, objects slightly out of place, things you might ordinarily overlook.  
Drawers didn't look quite right, as if things had been looked through.  
It reminded Alex of subtle police searches that were sometimes carried out without the suspect being aware.  
Alex didn't understand.  
Either she had overworked herself lately and was simply imagining this, or someone had been in her flat.  
"But why?" Alex pondered, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the idea.  
A moment later a possible answer dawned on Alex.  
Perhaps, as landlord, Luigi had made an inspection of the flat?  
It was possible and he was entitled to. She would ask him down in the bar.  
Perhaps he had not been able to inform her in advance because she had been at work, or he had simply forgotten.  
Any other explanation would be too far fetched, it had to be Luigi and maybe he would mention it tonight.  
With that, Alex returned to the other room and pulled her discarded boots back on.  
She grabbed her white jacket, put it on, and ventured out of her flat towards to the bar.  
As she entered the bar, the raucous noise of the CID members mocking Luigi's Italian accent was immediately audible.  
"That is-a very funny one Chris", poor Luigi responded across the bar to yet another of Chris's bad jokes.  
Alex wandered in, taking in the usual scene.  
CID were gathered around a large table. Some were chatting, some were singing, and Chris and Ray were now racing each other to see who could down a pint in one go the fastest.  
Chris suddenly spluttered and tried not to cough beer down his shirt, still a quarter of a pint left in his glass.  
Ray polished off the rest of his in mere moments.  
"You twonk", he said to the defeated Chris.  
Chris continued to cough, having learned that beer doesn't go down a windpipe too well.  
Nothing unusual was going on there then.  
Alex looked across the room slowly and saw Gene sat in the corner at his lonesome table, a bottle of red sat in front of him already open.  
She had caught him, all be it momentarily, looking at her in great detail as if studying her form closely.  
The moment he had realised she had looked his way he reigned in his wandering eyes.  
Alex suppressed a grin. It wasn't the first time she had noticed how he looked at her when he thought she wouldn't notice.  
She began to wonder towards Gene and he, in turn, raised an empty glass in the offer of a drink.  
Alex simply smiled and nodded her acceptance as she reached the table and sat herself down as Gene began to pour the drink for her.  
The glass was soon filled to the rim and Gene placed the bottle lightly back down on the table.  
Alex slowly took a careful sip as she tried not to spill anything from the very full glass.  
"That's better", Alex said approvingly as the comforting taste of the red wine hit her.  
Gene raised his own glass and knocked back what remained in it, as he was already a glass and a half ahead of Alex.  
"Go on then, what is it Sulky knickers?" Gene put the glass back down and enquired.  
Alex looked confused at him as she sipped again at her now formerly full glass, "What's what?"  
"You've wandered in glarin' all round the place like a cat lookin' for a mouse and barely said a word", Gene explained his observation. "You've normally said something daft or patronising by now you know Bolly".  
Alex took in Gene's words, he had indeed made a very good observation of her behaviour and body language.  
Could it be he was learning from her, as he put it, 'psychiatry'?  
"I just wanted a word with Luigi", Alex said, "when he's got a moment that is".  
"Oh yeah?", Gene said as he refilled his own glass, "Got a bit of a thing for the old Mafioso suddenly have we?".  
Alex tutted.  
"Gene...", Alex began and paused for a moment, "...I think someone's been in my flat".  
Gene frowned in thought as he listened. That hadn't been quite what he had been expecting.  
"There's things out of place, small things, like someone's had a look around but tried to hide the fact", Alex explained quietly, trying not to draw attention.  
"And you think ol' Uncle Luigi's been perving through your underwear drawer?", Gene enquired, his eyes now focusing firmly on Luigi who was struggling over to the CID crowd carrying a tray holding several pint glasses of beer.  
"No, no...", Alex shook her head knowing full well that Gene would have the Italian over the table by the throat if he thought that's what he had been doing.  
"Well, what then?" Gene demanded as he began glass number three.  
"Well he is the landlord", Alex explained, "I just wondered if he'd perhaps made a spot check, you know, an inspection of the flat".  
"Shall we find out?", Gene shrugged and sat up, "OI! LUIGI! OVER 'ERE!".  
"One moment Signor Hunt", Luigi said apologetically as he unloaded pint of beer, after pint of beer, after pint of beer to the CID table.  
The Italian then scurried back to the bar, placed his tray down and then hurried over towards Gene and Alex.  
He smiled as he reached their table.  
"Signorina Drake, Signor Hunt", he began, "more wine maybe?"  
"Luigi", Gene began in a very matter of fact tone and with absolutely zero tact, "My D.I here would like to know if you've been up in 'er flat snooping through her knicker drawer?".  
Luigi looked very confused, as if he wasn't sure if there had been some joke that had got lost in translation.  
Gene's bluntness caused Alex to almost choke on her wine.  
"No, no, no", she protested, "Ignore D.C.I Hunt, please".  
Luigi still held his smile, although he was clearly baffled by the conversation.  
"Luigi,there are a few things out of place in my flat", Alex began, "Nothing major, nothing missing. I just wondered if you had been in? Maybe you had been in for an inspection? You are the landlord after all".  
"No, no Signorina Drake", Luigi replied now understanding and his voice sounding full of concern, "No I promise. I haven't been into your flat".  
"It's okay Luigi", Alex smiled having watched his body language, "I believe you".  
Everything about Luigi's reaction convinced Alex that he was genuine.  
He really hadn't been into her flat uninvited.  
"Are you absolutely sure Signorina Drake?", Luigi asked quietly.  
"That's just it Luigi", Alex answered, a little frustrated, "I'm reasonably sure but I can't prove it".  
Luigi thought for a moment.  
"I know", he began, "you forget about it for now and if it happen again, we get Signor Hunt here to investigate, Si?".  
Reluctantly Alex nodded.  
She knew she wasn't wrong but, as Luigi had pointed out, there wasn't much that could be done unless it happened again and Alex could be one hundred percent sure.  
Luigi nodded to them both, made a slight bow and walked back to the bar.  
"Well if it's not him...", Alex began more to herself than anyone else, "...then who is it?".  
Gene sat in front of her, his expression neutral.  
His elbow sat on the table and his hand held his chin as he watched Alex.  
"Are you sure...", he began as he picked the wine bottle up slightly off the table and waved it in front of his D.I's face, "that's it's not simply a case of you having had a little too much of this during the week Bolls?".  
"I'm telling you Gene", Alex insisted sincerely and looking him in the eyes, "someone has definitely been in my flat".  
"But nothing's been taken, no forced entry?", Gene countered.  
Alex sighed.  
"I know it sounds crazy", she reluctantly agreed, "but I know I'm not imagining it".  
"Want to make it official?" Gene suggested, it was the only course of action he could think of.  
"I can't, can I?" Alex huffed lightly, "There's no evidence as such, just things I know aren't right".  
Neither of them said a word for a few moments.  
Alex observed Gene.  
Despite his silence, she could clearly see that he was thinking something and that he was pondering whether or not to say it.  
"You don't believe me do you?", she said it for him.  
Gene looked up immediately.  
"I never said that!" he protested.  
"You didn't have to", Alex explained, "it's written all over your face".  
Gene pouted in thought for a moment before deciding on how to carefully word his response.  
"I don't disbelieve you, but I know what you're like when you've had a few", Gene defended his thoughts, "Can you be sure you haven't moved things around after you've put away a few bottles of red down here over the last few nights? You drink like a bloody fish at times!"  
"As do you!" Alex defended herself.  
She wasn't going to let this degenerate into an argument over who drinks the most so she tried to keep her voice down to an irate whisper.  
"I can 'andle it!", Gene simply stated.  
"And I can't?" Alex huffed, he was annoying her now.  
"Two words to jog your memory missus...", Gene pointed his finger at her to emphasise the point he was about to make, "Thatcherite...Wanker!".  
Silence.  
Gene knew what he had done, he had realised it the moment he had said it but it had been too late the apply the brakes.  
He had overstepped the mark.  
The two broke eye contact for a moment.  
Gene looked away to the bar for a briefly before he looked back at Alex.  
Alex appeared thoughtful, looking at the deep red liquid in her glass.  
"That was low..." she simply said very quietly.  
Gene sat, mentally kicking himself.  
"Look Bolls", he attempted to limit the damage, "That wasn't meant how it sounded".  
Gene topped up Alex's glass by way of apology and poured himself another.  
He could see that he had verbally kicked her in the gut.  
"I meant you're not the first person to get so drunk you can't find things the next day", Gene explained better this time, "Done it me'self, plenty of times. Can't find the car keys the next day...couldn't even find the bloody car one time, parked my old Cortina in the wrong road entirely in Manchester! Looked a right twat when Plods found it in the next road that afternoon!".  
Gene saw Alex begin to smile slightly at his words, indicating that he had redeemed himself in her eyes.  
"Oh, I don't know what to think now Gene...", Alex reluctantly admitted.  
She had to admit that alcohol did have a habit of going straight to her head, and staying there for some time afterwards.  
But in her own defence, she knew she hadn't come away from Luigi's in too drunk a state on any night this week. Not 'too' drunk at least.  
And the things which were moved were not things she would ordinarily touch after returning from an evening in Luigi's.  
Her usual routine was to let herself into her flat, if she could get the key in the lock, kick her boots off, get changed, freshen up, collapse on bed and go to sleep.  
She wouldn't go around moving random coffee jars, folders full of paperwork, magazines, etc. And if she did, she was sure she would remember because there would be a reason why.  
However, Gene's point about alcohol was valid.  
It wasn't entirely inconceivable she supposed, despite her own belief that something odd was going on.  
"Look, Luigi's right", Gene admitted, "See if it happens again and if it doesn't then just put it down to being a posh tart who can't hold her drink".  
"I suppose I don't have any choice", Alex relented as she began to drink the newly refilled glass.  
Gene watched her drink for a moment as he sat there observing his clearly rattled D.I.  
"Of course", he announced confidently, "If you'd feel safer, you can always invite a Gene Genie over to stay the night...y'know, just incase".  
Alex gave a short laugh.  
'That's more like it', Gene thought to himself.  
"I'll bear that in mind", Alex smiled.

* * *

"So you know what someone's thinking just by looking at them Ma'am?" Shaz had been listening to Alex intently in the CID office the next day.  
Shaz had pulled up a chair next to Alex's desk after enquiring exactly what Alex's psychology expertise meant.  
"No it's not quite like that Shaz", Alex tried to explain to the WPC.  
Alex had been trying to explain how to read body language to Shaz and the young girl seemed very eager to learn and was indeed taking a lot of the information in.  
"Okay, watch and learn", Alex smiled to Shaz and got to her feet.  
The WPC watched intently as Alex made her way across the CID office and over to Chris who was sat back in his chair, feet up on his desk, eyes closed and with his walkman earphones in his ears.  
"Chris?" Alex called as she reached his desk and leant against it with one hand.  
No response.  
Looking down, Alex selected a pen that was lying on the desk, picked it up and gently tossed it at the DC.  
Chris opened his eyes with a start and almost fell backwards off his chair.  
"Yess..errr...I...I was just err...just...", the flustered DC waffled.  
"Chris, have you got that report on that car thief?" Alex enquired, "the one I asked for an hour ago?"  
Chris's eyes bulged as he realised he hadn't finished writing it.  
He backed away slightly, scraped his chair along the floor and nervously folded his arms across his chest.  
"I err", Chris continued to fluff his words, "I think I forgot after I went for a Mars bar".  
"Well get it finished ASAP please", Alex said looking down at Chris.  
"Yes ma'am", Chris nodded and began fumbling through the paperwork on his desk.  
Alex turned and walked back to her own desk, aiming a mischievous grin at Shaz who was returning one of her own.  
As Alex sat down again she began to quiz Shaz.  
"Now, did you watch all of that carefully Shaz?", Alex asked.  
"Yes ma'am", Shaz nodded sounding intrigued, "I fink so".  
"Right", Alex began, "When Chris realised he'd been caught out, how did he react?".  
"Well he backed away ma'am", Shaz recalled, playing the scene over again in her mind.  
"Correct", Alex nodded, pleased with Shaz's observation, "he was in the wrong, he was guilty, he backed away, cowered away. He wanted to avoid confrontation".  
Shaz smiled, very pleased with herself.  
"Anything else?", Alex quized.  
Shaz thought, trying to remember.  
"Errrm, he folded his arms ma'am?"  
"Exactly", Alex smiled, extremely impressed.  
"By folding his arms, Chris formed a defensive barrier between him and myself", Alex explained.  
Shaz was fascinated.  
"Oh I see", she excalimed, "So it's like he's hiding behind somethin'?".  
"In a way yes", Alex nodded, "and it all comes from the subconscious, nobody actually thinks about what thier body language is saying".  
"So am I saying anythin' now Ma'am?" Shaz pondered as she sat alongside Alex's desk.  
Alex nodded, "Very much so, Shaz. You're sat upright, not slouching, and you're leaning inwards to the conversation".  
"What does that mean then?" Shaz wondered, amazed that even she was being 'read' in this almost magical way.  
"It means that you are interested in this conversation Shaz", Alex continued, "You're not bored, you're taking every detail in".  
"Wowwww...", Shaz was genuinely impressed.  
"If you're really that interested Shaz, I can teach you some more another day", Alex offered, "It can be very useful in police work and even everyday life".  
"That'd be great Ma'am", Shaz accepted, "Fanks a lot".  
"It's no trouble at all Shaz", Alex responded to the eager young WPC.  
Shaz was about to leave Alex's desk when Viv walked in followed by two men.  
Viv said nothing and simply escorted them to Gene's office.  
He knocked twice on the glass of the door.  
Alex observed this from where she sat and saw Gene look up from his paperwork and beckon them in.  
She had no idea who they were but as soon as they entered Gene's office they closed the door and both produced Police warrant cards from inside their jackets.  
"CID", Alex muttered.  
"Not from 'ere", Shaz shook her head.  
"Another force or station then", Alex concluded.  
They watched with intrigue as the scene continued.  
The two mystery CID appeared to be introducing themselves and held their hands out over Gene's desk.  
In turn, Gene shook their hands as they continued to introduce themselves.  
The conversation could not be heard from outside of Gene's office but the lead mystery CID officer produced some paperwork.  
From where she sat, Alex thought it appeared to be an arrest warrant.  
She frowned as she watched.  
If they were being asked to liaise with another force or station then surely Gene's own D.I should be in there to hear the conversation.  
Almost as if he had read her thoughts, Gene looked through the glass of his office and over to Alex.  
They made eye contact across the space between them and Alex began to get to her feet.  
Suddenly Gene held up a hand, as if indicating for her to halt and stay where she was.  
Alex did as she was instructed but didn't understand why. She was convinced however that Gene would explain to her as soon as he had a chance.  
Another few moments of observation followed and Alex was shocked to see Gene react to something by suddenly banging his fist down on the desk in anger.  
This now caught the attention of the entire department who, until now, had barely registered the arrival of the visitors.  
Alex and Shaz both looked to each other.  
Alex shrugged. Whatever it was they had just said, it was clear that Gene hadn't liked it.  
Voices could now be heard in heated argument although the words themselves could not be made out.  
Then, the two CID officers turned to leave.  
"Don't you bloody dare!" Gene could then be clearly heard shouting to them, his words now identifiable.  
He stood behind his desk, fuming, his face red with anger.  
The mystery CID officers opened the door and walked out into the main office.  
They looked to one side and focused their attention firmly on Alex, at her desk.  
"I'm warnin' you two", Gene thundered from his office and stopped just outside the doorway, "Don't you bloody dare!"  
Alex looked at Gene totally mystified.  
He looked at her in a way she had never seen before.  
He looked angry, so angry, but not at her. In addition to the anger, Gene simply looked powerless.  
"D.I Alex Drake?", the lead officer enquired as the two approached her.  
"Yes?" Alex frowned in confusion.  
"Alex Drake I am arresting you for the murders of Timothy and Caroline Price, and the attempted murder of Alexandra Price. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you".  
There were gasps and murmurs of surprise and disdain from Gene's own CID.  
"What?" Alex felt her pulse race and a feeling of sheer horror wash over her as the words sank in.  
"You better know what you're doing pal!" Gene spat at these two intruders with pure venom in his voice.  
"Don't worry D.C.I Hunt", The other CID man nodded, "we know exactly what we're doing".  
The second CID man took a step towards Alex and gently took her by the arm, urging her to stand.  
"Gene I didn't...", Alex protested as she stood, "...I couldn't. Murder?"  
"'Course you didn't Bolls", Gene angrily replied, "These morons wouldn't even know their faces from their arses".  
The second CID produced his handcuffs from his pockets and nodded to Alex.  
She knew the score.  
Horrified as she was, she was hardly going to resist arrest.  
"Oh come on!" Gene protested, "Is this really necessary?"  
Ray moved to stand just behind Gene, his imposing form backing up his boss.  
"Bastards!"t he Detective Sergeant stated in a manor he intended to be heard.  
"It's okay...", Alex hushed her colleagues with a clearly fake reassurance in her voice, "...really...".  
Gene held her gaze as Alex held her wrists out before her, offering them to the visiting CID man with no resistance.  
He cuffed her quickly and took hold of her arm, "Come on then".  
Alex broke Gene's sharp gaze and simply looked down, the situation being totally unfamiliar to her.  
With a slight tug of her arm, the two CID began to walk towards the main door, taking the stunned Alex with them.  
"We'll get you out in no time Bolls!" Gene announced with sheer determination in his voice.  
"It's a bloody fit up!" Ray added, "Nuthin' better to do!".  
The lead CID man stopped at the door and looked back.  
"Thank you for your co-operation with our enquiries, D.C.I Hunt", he added with clearly pretend politeness.  
The second CID man was just outside the door with Alex, still visible to her colleagues.  
Gene had one last thing to add and he wanted Alex to hear it.  
"Anything happens to her", he said with a quiet yet menacing tone, "and you won't know what's bloody 'it yer!".  
"Good day", Gene's adversary nodded and they continued on their way, the CID door swinging shut behind them.


	2. Interview

"Interview with D.I Alex Drake, November 12th 1981. Also present in the room are myself - D.C.I Robertson, and D.I Mathews".  
The interview room at this station was not very different to those at Alex's own station.  
It was very bare and unimpressive, just a table in the middle with two chairs on each side.  
There were some items on the table in clear plastic evidence bags along with some paperwork belonging to the interviewing officers.  
The room itself was of a similar grey to the one Alex was used to at her own station, here in 1981.

D.C.I Robertson and D.I Mathews sat silently opposite Alex, while they prepared paperwork.  
D.C.I Robertson appeared to be of a similar age to Gene. He sat staring at Alex as if trying to break her with his glare before the interview even began. Robertsonappeared emotionally hard and gave Alex an impression of coldness.  
Mathews sat next to Robertson. He appeared younger, by about seven to eight years, but didn't appear quite as hard looking as Robertson.

Alex sat silent and alone opposite them, waiting for the inevitable questioning to begin.  
The events of the morning had all taken place so fast and she was still having trouble taking it all in. It seemed almost unbelievable. She had hoped that it had, at first, all been a very bad joke made in poor taste. But that hadn't been the case. Alex had been utterly mortified when she had been arrested in full view of her colleagues on such major and outrageous charges. After leaving the CID office, Robertson and Mathews had bundled her into the back of a waiting police car from their own station and driven off.

Alex had watched the journey go by from the back seat, wondering how she would get out of this mess. She couldn't possibly use the truth as an explanation. They would never believe that the people she stood accused of murdering were her own parents and she had simply been trying to prevent something which, in her own life, had already happened. If she gave that explanation they would think her mentally ill, find her guilty on grounds of diminished responsibility, and definitely throw away the key.

Once at the station, they had taken Alex through the familiar routine of booking her in and had then locked her in a bare empty cell until they were ready to interview her. She had been brought to the interview room a few minutes ago and Alex now sat, waiting for the interview to begin.  
"First off", D.C.I Robertson finally began, "A little admin problem".  
Alex looked at him from across the table and listened.  
"The brief you requested, Evan White", Robertson explained looking at some paperwork before him, "I'm afraid we can't allow you to use him as he will be called as a witness and we will be seeking to question him later on in relation to this case".  
Alex felt another pang of dread as she digested this news. This wasn't good.  
When asked if there was anyone in particular she wanted to act as her legal representative, she had immediately requested Evan. She already trusted him and she knew he was good, better than good, excellent at what he did. If anyone could help get her out of this mess, it was Evan.

Alex had thought and thought during her time in the police cell and had been completely unable to think of a reason as to why she had been deemed a suspect in the Price murders. She was a police officer, she solved murders, she didn't cause them! The only thing she could think of was that she had upset someone, a criminal probably, and they had simply made up a false accusation then taken it to the police. Unlikely as the accusation may be, the police would have to investigate such a serious accusation. With no evidence, Alex couldn't see how the case could possibly hold and with that she felt quietly confident that she would be released as soon as it was clear that she was innocent. The police would of course have to make their enquiries, follow up any supposed leads, find there was no evidence to build a case on and then let her go. Taking a wild guess Alex reasoned that this should take no more the twenty four, maybe forty eight hours at the absolutely very most. Then she would be out and this distasteful matter would all be cleared up.

Once out she would definitely head to Luigi's and, no matter how much Gene may try and stop her, she was going to get absolutely smashed in both celebration and relief. As far as Alex was concerned, there was absolutely no evidence against her. It was impossible for there to be as she knew she wasn't involved. However, she did feel incredibly uncomfortable in this situation as it was totally alien to her and unexpected. And that was why she had wanted Evan. Not only for his excellent legal expertise, but because she simply wanted to someone to be her rock, a friendly and familiar face to give reassurance. Much as she doubted the strength of any case against her, she knew from experience that Evan was highly skilled when it came to running rings around police arguments.

"We will appoint you a brief as soon as possible", Robertson continued.  
"Now for the time being, we shall continue".  
There was silence for a moment until Robertson began his first question.  
"So, D.I Drake", he began staring hard at her yet again, "How did you first come to meet the Prices?"  
Alex thought back to just after her arrival in 1981 and the case of the threats against the developer Danny Moore.  
"Caroline Price was representing a young man who was thought to be making threats against a Docklands developer", Alex explained honestly.  
"I see", Robertson acknowledged as Mathews noted things down on a notepad.  
"And this first meeting", the D.C.I probed, "did it go well?"  
"It was..." Alex tried to think of an appropriate description, "...a heated debate took place".  
"So your first meeting with Caroline Price didn't get off to a good start then?" Robertson continued.  
"She was just doing her job", Alex defended as she recalled her first meeting with Caroline degenerating into a very bitchy argument, "as was I."  
"Point taken", he nodded as he looked to his next question, "and Timothy Price?"  
"I didn't meet Tim Price until some time later", Alex explained, "I went to see him at court to warn him that we had information that both he and his family might be in danger".  
"Ah yes...the car bombing", D.C.I Robertson noted. "This car bomb that you seemed to know all about in advance. Funny that don't you think?"  
Alex didn't like his tone. It was very condescending.  
"I had a tip off from an informant", Alex replied in part truth as remembered back to that day.  
She had indeed had a tip off from an informant, but there was no way she could admit that the informant had simply been herself making a fake telephone call to her own office phone.  
"An informant", Robertson repeated, "and would you care to name this informant so we could check the facts?"  
Alex shook her head.  
"Why not?" Robertson probed.  
"I don't know who it was", Alex lied. She didn't like lying.  
She was trained to spot when someone was lying and she certainly didn't like having to lie herself during a police interview. However, she could see no other option.  
"I received a telephone call early on the morning of October 9th warning that a car bomb would go off at 10am the following morning", Alex recounted. This matched what she had told Ray moments later on that very day.  
"I see", Robertson said leaving an opening for Alex to continue.  
"Naturally I felt it necessary to warn the Prices of this possible threat to their lives so I went to the court and met with Tim Price".  
"And did he believe you?" Robertson pondered aloud.  
"No", Alex shook her head and looked downwards, "No, he didn't".  
Mathews continued to note things down.

"Moving the subject along a little...", Robertson sat back in his chair, clearly feeling relaxed that he had the upper hand and that he had more cards up his sleeve.  
"Would it be true to say that you often called at the Price**s'** house in various emotional states during the time that you knew them?"  
Alex didn't like the way this questioning was going. She felt as if Robertson believed she was guilty. He had the typical look that Alex recognised of a **c**opper who knew they had their man, or in this case, woman.  
"I..." Alex paused as she thought carefully how to answer, "I did call on Caroline a few times, yes".

Robertson picked up one of the plastic evidence bags.  
Alex eyed the contents as he opened it up and removed something.  
It was a small book, a diary.  
"This is the personal diary of Caroline Price", he explained as he opened it at a page that had been bookmarked by a slip of paper.  
Alex looked at it, her own mother'sdiary and it seemed it was to be used against her.  
"Let me read you an extract", Robertson held the book ready to read...  
"D.I Drake called around again today. She was visibly distressed and I felt that there was something she was trying desperately to tell me. She said she had to leave but never revealed where she was going to. I feel that she wants to confide in me but something is holding her back. It is good to have the confidence of this young lady but I feel there are some deep dark problems which she hides away. She appears extremely troubled and is a deep mystery indeed".  
"Care to explain why Caroline Price would think this of you?" Robertson quizzed.  
Alex shook her head.She didn't want to reply just yet. Hearing her mother's opinion of her had been something Alex hadn't expected.  
"Well let's try another one then", Robertson turned the page, "This diary also makes mention of some photographs, revealing photographs it would seem".

Alex looked away, she didn't like where this was going. This was her mother they were talking about! Robertson knew too much about the Prices'. He smiled in satisfaction at Alex's silence as he reached into another evidence bag and pulled out an A4 brown envelope.  
"Would these be the photographs by any chance?" He opened the envelope and Alex immediately recognised the infamous photographs of Caroline and Evan.  
This was upsetting. They were misinterpreting everything. The police must have gone through the Price house and searched for anything that could have given their killer a motive for the murders.  
"Do you recognise these photographs?" Robertson held one of them up, leaving nothing to the imagination.  
Alex simply nodded and quietly admitted, "yes".  
"These were being used by a chap, now deceased, called Martin Kennedy to blackmail Mrs Price, were they not?" Robertson checked, "it's all in the diary".  
"That's true", Alex concurred with him.

The hard faced D.C.I sat for a moment and the room remained silent while he again simply stared at Alex.  
"So with Kennedy dead", he began his train of thought, "You could easily have continued the blackmail".  
Alex sat bolt upright.  
"What?!" she stormed, her eyes widening in bewilderment.  
"Although you gave the originals back to Mrs. Price", he surmised, "it is not inconceivable that you made copies and decided to blackmail Mrs. Price yourself".  
"That is utter nonsense!" Alex defended herself, amazed at the ridiculous allegations she was hearing.  
"And in continuing the blackmail, you had cause to visit the Prices' on numerous occasions", he continued, "but Mrs Price wouldn't pay would she? Or would she simply not pay enough?".  
"This never happened!" Alex leant towards Robertson and banged the palm of her hand down on the table to emphasise her point, "This is rubbish!".  
"And when Mrs. Price wouldn't pay, you feared she would report you to your superiors or even take it to the media", Robertson continued, "After all, the Prices' certainly had a bee in their bonnet about police corruption, didn't they?".  
"You're just making all of this up!" Alex continued to defend herself, her pulse beginning to race in anger.  
"The only way to stop this scheme backfiring on you was to eliminate them", Robertson leant forwards towards Alex as if going in for the kill, "And to do that you hired someone to blow them to bits on your behalf".

Alex said nothing for a moment. She was simply too amazed. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.  
"You can't be serious", she attempted to make him see reason. "I would never harm anyone, let alone hire a bloody hit man".  
"Not necessarily a hit man", Robertson shook his head, "Just someone who knows their way around a bomb...and someone you may have had dealings with in the past".  
"You're mad", Alex shook her head.  
"Really?" Robertson laughed, "D.I. Drake, tell me about your dealings with a Mr Arthur Layton".  
Alex froze momentarily as that accursed name cropped up again.  
"What?" she asked, surprised.  
"Arthur Layton. Former drug lord whom you yourself arrested...Yet you visited him in prison twice just before the bombing"  
"So what if I did?" Alex demanded.  
"Was it to cut a deal maybe?" Robertson asked pointing his pen towards Alex.  
"How can you possibly think all this?" Alex shook her head, simply not comprehending where this could all be coming from.  
"Perhaps both the charges and evidence against Layton might mysteriously vanish if he did this one job for you", Robertson nodded, "and on a day he was due for a bail hearing too...How convenient".  
"Listen to me", Alex pleaded, "You can't seriously believe any of this can you? There can't even be any evidence!"  
"Can't there?" Robertson raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise.  
"No there isn't!" Alex said sternly, "and you know that as well as I do".  
"Right..." Robertson huffed and opened yet another evidence bag.  
"At the time of your arrest and acting on a tip off, officers from this station staged a search of your flat", Robertson grinned sarcastically, "and some _verrrry_ interesting items came to light".

Alex was shocked. So she had been right. Someone had been in her flat after all. Yet Robertson said his officers had searched the flat as Alex was being arrested. So someone else must have been in there first?  
"There's nothing at all relevant in my flat", Alex shrugged confidently, "You know it. I know it".  
"You don't find anything remotely disturbing about this then?" Robertson offered the evidence sealed in the clear bags to Alex, "all found pinned to a notice board on the wall of your flat".  
Alex's mouth dropped open and her eyes widened as she saw the contents. Suddenly everything became dramatically clearer. Without thinking, Alex clasped her hand over her open mouth as she realised with horror what had been found and how it could be perceived.  
"Let's see...", Robertson pointed to the evidence in turn, "Numerous newspaper clippings about the Price family. Articles about their court cases and even articles about their private life".  
Robertson then pointed to the next item.  
"The Price family's private home telephone number on a scrap of paper".  
He pointed to the third item.  
"And most disturbing yet fascinating of all", he almost growled, "A calendar marking off the days up to the Price murders, but nothing marked off since. How very odd indeed".

Alex felt her heart sink. She knew how it looked. As a trained police psychologist she knew that even she would find that suspicious if she came across similar items in a suspect's flat.  
But Alex had never, not even once in 1981, thought of her cuttings and the calendar in that particular context - up until now. It had never been her intention for anybody but herself to ever see these items anyway. As far as she had been concerned, she would prevent the bombing and wake up back in 2008. She had never thought about how things such as the calendar and news clippings could be misinterpreted had she failed to save her parents, because failure had never entered her head.

"That's a little obsessive don't you think D.I Drake?", Robertson simply asked.  
Alex felt as if she were now sinking into a dark metaphorical hole that would be hard to climb out of. She looked at the items and her heart raced with the adrenalin. She knew how this all looked, and it looked bad. What Alex had initially thought would be a simple interview resulting in her being released, had now become far more complicated. She was in trouble and she knew it.

"Oh dear..." Robertson gloated, "it appears the cat's got your tongue now".  
"It's not how it seems", Alex's mind was racing to think up a logical explanation.  
"It isn't?" Robertson raised his eyebrows inquisitively, "So if you saw this is a suspect's place of residence you wouldn't find this in any way suspicious, then?...And you call yourself a D.I!"  
"Look, just stop twisting the facts", Alex attempted to reason with Robertson.  
"I'm not twisting any facts", Robertson gave that icy stare again, "I'm not the one who appears to have some twisted obsession with this poor family."

"Everything you have..." Alex began, "Everything you have is entirely circumstantial!".  
"I think this is very solid evidence actually", Robertson disagreed, "Now all we need is to establish your motive".  
"My motive?" Alex reacted angrily, "Motive? There is no motive because I didn't do it!"  
Robertson moved the evidence aside as he began yet again.  
"Let's level with each other here, D.I Drake", he said sounding almost civil for once, "We're all coppers in this room so none of us had any particular love for those damned Prices'. I'm sure that if you asked around the Met you'd even find some who feel this car bombing did us a favour by getting rid of those two and their constant crusades against good everyday coppers like us".

Alex didn't react. It was hard to sit opposite someone who was talking about her parents in such a cruel and inhuman manner.  
"So was that it D.I Drake?" Robertson questioned, "had you simply had enough of them and arranged for them to be 'got rid of'?"  
"Ofcourse not! I have never killed anybody!" Alex's tone was hardening against Robertson's onslaughts.  
"Or was something far deeper and darker going on here, Drake?" Robertson said dropping the title of D.I from her name, finger pointing to the evidence from Alex's flat.  
"This is utter nonsense!" Alex again rejected the accusation.

"Tell me, do you take drugs D.I Drake?"  
"What?" Alex replied in amazement.  
"It's a simple enough question", Robertson shrugged as he looked at her, "do you take drugs?".  
"Ofcourse not!" Alex shook her head in clear offence at the suggestion, "I'm a police officer, ofcourse I don't!"  
"Yet an accusation was made, but never followed up due to the car bombing..." Robertson grinned again, "...that you barged into the Price house on the day of October 9th and planted cocaine on the premises before arresting the Prices'".  
'Oh God'...Alex thought to herself. It couldn't get any worse could it?  
"Is the allegation true D.I Drake?" Robertson simply asked.  
"I was trying to protect them!" Alex protested, "I had to try and stop them from getting in that car!"  
"So you're admitting to planting drugs?" Robertson asked, feeling he was beginning to get somewhere.  
"I was trying to prevent a murder!" Alex continued to try and explain.  
"Yes or no, D.I Drake!" Robertson demanded angrily, "Did you plant drugs on the Prices?!".  
Alex sighed a desperate sigh. She placed her elbows on the table and let her face drop into her hands.  
"Yes..." she simply admitted reluctantly.  
"Finally!" Robertson leant back in his chair triumphantly, "Some truth! Now we're finally getting somewhere!"

Alex remained as she was. This was going very badly and she knew it. She took a few moments to steady her breathing. She hadn't liked admitting the accusation of planting the cocaine, but she had been verbally backed into a corner and had been left no choice. Now she knew the admission had weakened her already bad position and she felt vulnerable. Alex sat back up again and pushed back the curls that had flopped forwards over her face. As she looked, she saw Robertson and Mathews were conferring quietly between themselves. She knew full well what was going on. Alex took a deep breath in an attempt to bury the feeling of utter dread that had begun to rise within her. She braced herself for what she knew was coming.

Robertson looked back round towards Alex, as did Mathews.  
Robertson gathered his paperwork together as Mathews collected the evidence bags back up into a pile.  
"I don't think it will come as a surprise to you D.I Drake but your answers have proven to be far less than satisfactory and I am now informing you that we are indeed formally charging you with the murders of Timothy and Caroline Price, the attempted murder of Alexandra Price and possession of cocaine"," the DCI announced as he got to his feet, "Mathews, get someone to take her away".

Alex felt sick to her stomach as her world was rocked by Robertson's announcement.  
The next thing she knew, a female WPC was taking hold of her arm and asking her to get to her feet. Alex complied, feeling herself trembling slightly as she stood. Her mind was racing as she was led from the interview room and back towards the cells, but everything seemed cloudy and confused. Alex saw the police cell getting nearer and nearer until she stepped back inside it and the door made the familiar clang as it shut behind her.

For a moment Alex simply stood, the information slowly sinking in and the gravity of her situation beginning to weigh upon her mind. Alex moved to lean her back against the wall.  
As she did, her mind flashed up a familiar image.  
Candles, birthday cake...Molly.  
Alex's eyes quickly welled up with tears as she slowly sank down the wall and sat on the floor.  
She hugged her legs tightly and lowered her head forwards to her knees as she began to sob.

* * *

The golden whisky swirled around the glass, its scent wafting around the office as Gene prepared to down the liquid. It certainly wasn't the first whiskey he had drunk that day.  
Since Alex had been arrested and hauled from the building Gene had mostly remained in his office. His initial reaction had been to storm up to see the 'Super' and, in no uncertain terms, demand an explanation. Gene himself had brought the explanation back to his CID.  
Once Alex had been deemed a suspect, a nearby station had taken on the investigation to avoid any bias or possible cover up that might result from investigating ones own colleague.  
The 'Super' had tried to sound reassuring, stating that it was merely procedure and that as a result Alex was suspended until further notice.

Gene was angry, terribly angry. He had sat in his office ever since coming back down to CID and passing on the 'Super's' words. He had a folder of paperwork on his desk which required his attention but Gene had refused to even look at it all day, partly in protest and partly due to his anger. He simply couldn't focus his mind on anything other than Alex.  
He had sat there for hours now, just waiting for his telephone to ring with an update, some news, anything.

Gene was worried too. He knew his Bolly wasn't behind it because he knew who was...That twisted bastard lawyer Tim Price. But he couldn't reveal it. If Alex wanted to reveal it then he would back her up but he very much doubted it would come to even that.  
Gene had decided that this modern notion of evidence being so important was, perhaps in this case, a good thing. But he had destroyed the one piece of evidence that would prove once and for all that she was innocent...The VHS of Tim Price's suicide message. But there was no way they would have anything on his Bolly.

Gene knew Alex was many things, a posh pain in the arse, patronising at times, amusing when drunk, sometimes irrational and quite frequently a little crazy...But above all that, she was his D.I and was certainly not a murderer. The only crime Gene knew Alex was capable of was the occasional and irritating TWOC-ing - taking without owner's consent- of his beloved Quattro.  
Gene had lost one D.I already and he had no intention of losing another, especially one he felt so intensely towards.

As Gene's thoughts turned towards his feelings for Alex, his attention was dragged back to reality when the telephone finally rang. Gene's heart jumped and he answered it immediately.  
"Yes?"  
Everyone in CID had looked up upon hearing the phone ring.  
Gene wasn't the only one desperately waiting for news.  
"What!?"  
Gene got to his feet.  
"And you're sure?"  
"Bastards!"  
Gene slammed the phone back down onto the receiver with great force.  
He looked out into the office as he breathed big angry breaths.  
He had to tell them. They were all looking to him.  
He downed the whiskey in one go to steady himself.  
Gene moved to the door and exited his office, standing before his assembled troops.  
"Guv?" Ray prompted with concern from where he sat.  
Gene looked to all of his CID, all their eyes were on him, pleading for news of their D.I.  
"They've charged her...Two counts of murder, one of attempted murder and one for possession of cocaine".  
With that Gene marched from the office, his fists clenched tightly in fury and his nails digging into his palms  
He didn't know where he was headed.  
All Gene Hunt knew was that he had to get out of there before he damaged something.

End chapter 2


	3. New surroundings, new acquaintance

Evidence

Chapter 3

New surroundings, new acquaintance.

Alex sat with her back leaning against the wall of her new surroundings.  
Everything had all gone so very wrong so very quickly. Alex now felt as if she was truly in a pit of despair, and she didn't know how to get herself out.  
Another blow had been dealt to her the previous day as she had been denied bail and remanded in custody to await her trial.  
She now had a lawyer, by the name of George Jarvis, to represent her.  
She understood him to be a close friend of Evan's and that he had taken Alex's case on at Evan's own request.  
The denial of bail had been a massive disappointment for Alex.  
She had desperately wanted to taste freedom again after it had been so suddenly snatched from her the previous day.  
And she wanted to see her colleagues, her friends, especially Gene.  
Only recently had she come to realise how much of a rock he had been for her, always dependable and pulling her away from trouble.  
Jarvis had tried his hardest to plead Alex's case, stating that she was hardly dangerous and couldn't flee the country because she didn't even have a valid passport.  
It had indeed been a very valid argument but the police argument had ended up winning the day.  
The police had argued that bail should be refused on the grounds of the two charges of murder, and the charge of the attempted murder of a child, being so serious.  
The police also raised ludicrous doubts about Alex's mental state, arguing that evidence that they had found could indicate that she was in some way unstable and would be best held in custody.  
To Alex's disappointment, the magistrate had agreed.

Alex leant her head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling.  
She was in HMP Holloway and was sat on the lower bunk of the cell she had been allocated upon her arrival the day before.  
As a female prisoner, and not currently convicted of any crime, she was permitted to wear her normal clothes - the dark blue jeans and a light blue off the shoulder top.  
Alex hadn't strayed far since her arrival.  
She hadn't wanted to mingle because she didn't even want to be there.  
She sighed as she looked at her surroundings.  
Grey, drab, soul destroying.  
The place made Alex feel sick at the thought that she was being held in the prison that would one day hold the likes of Rose West and Maxine Carr; people who truly deserved to be there.  
That thought alone made the place feel dirty.  
There was a small square window higher up the wall behind the basic metal framed bunk.  
It was small and barred.  
There was glass in it but it was the more secure type of glass that had small wire squares criss-crossing through it.  
It was also too high up to look out from, simply allowing in a small amount of natural light.  
The door of the cell was open and had been for some time.  
Ambient voices could be heard from the other inmates as they mingled amongst themselves in the communal areas.  
Shouts from disagreements could be heard occasionally from other inmates. There had even been a scream some time earlier.

Alex looked round cautiously as she heard footsteps approaching the cell.  
The sound of footsteps always unnerved Alex in this place. She would nervously wait to see who it was, inmate or prison officer, and breathe a sigh of relief when it turned out to be a prison officer.  
Her worries stemmed from the fact that this was not a good place for a copper, of all people, to find herself.  
She continued to look to the doorway, almost holding her breath until the form did indeed appear.  
To Alex's relief it was indeed a prison officer.  
He appeared to be in his late twenties and stopped momentarily in the doorway.  
"Awright luv?", he checked up on the unfamiliar face before him.  
Alex attempted a weak smile and nodded, "Yeah..." she whispered.  
The officer nodded back and continued on his way, vanishing from sight and leaving only the sound of his fading footsteps.  
She hated this. Everything was grim about this place and she was constantly on edge here.

Alex tried to relax. She breathed out slowly, trying to calm her nerves.  
She was supposed to be the expert on this yet she simply couldn't do anything about the stiff tension she constantly felt in her shoulders.  
She wondered if this is how Layton had felt.  
It was as if their worlds had suddenly swapped places.  
She was now the one languishing in prison. Layton? Nobody knew where he was now.  
To nobody's surprise, he had done a runner after the day of the car bombing.  
She remembered how cocky she had been when she had visited Layton in his similar surroundings in Wormwood Scrubs. She recalled gloating about his situation as he sat before her behind the secure glass, and how she had taunted him by whispering "loser" in his face.  
Alex couldn't help but wonder if Layton had anything to do with her current situation.  
It was a strong possibility she couldn't help but dwell on.  
He had after all warned her that he was "a very dangerous man to gamble with".  
Was he behind it?  
Was it Layton who had snuck into her flat and discovered the so called 'evidence' against her?  
Did he then hatch the plan of anonymously tipping off the police that there were items there implicating her in the Prices' deaths?  
Alex shivered at the thought that Arthur Layton might have been in her flat without her knowledge.  
At least she thought it was him.  
As far as she was concerned, there was no other obvious suspect, and he certainly had the motive for framing Alex.  
In his eyes, he would be getting even with her. Pay back.  
She wondered where Layton was now.  
If he was indeed behind this then he would be feeling very satisfied with his work.  
'Is this man destined to plague me my entire life?', Alex wondered.

Alex closed her eyes and leant her head back against the wall.  
She foolishly hoped that when she opened her eyes again it might all have simply been a bad dream.  
She wasn't a defeatist but in her current circumstances she felt more alone than usual.  
At least in the outside world -in 1981-she had company. There was Gene to verbally spar with, Chris and Ray to charge in when backup was needed and Shaz for her to educate and bring out the potential she knew was within the young WPC.  
Here, Alex had nobody.  
She was due to meet with her lawyer in the next day or two to begin preparing her defence.  
Although he was nice and professional enough, Alex felt no connection with him as she did her close friends.  
She desperately wanted to see a familiar face about now but she was in two minds about it as the mere thought of her friends seeing her in this place felt degrading.

Most of all she wanted to see Gene.  
Doubtless he would have some very strong words to say about Alex's situation, yet at the same time, part of her didn't want him to see her like this.  
Even though she knew she was innocent, Alex felt great shame at being in prison. It was where 'bad' people ended up, not good coppers like herself.  
Alex tried to shake her thoughts of Gene and her friends.  
She knew she was allowed to request visitors but she doubted they would allow her to ask for Gene to come.  
As her superior officer he would inevitably be called as a witness by both defence and prosecution and, as a result, it would probably be deemed inappropriate for the suspect to have contact with a witness prior to the trial.  
''Typical', Alex thought. In all of this world there was nobody else who could be there for her.

"Copper, eh?" Alex opened her eyes immediately and sat up defensively.  
A figure was stood in the doorway leaning against the stern metal frame.  
Alex hadn't heard this one approaching.  
A woman in her late forties, maybe early fifties, stood arms folded staring at Alex.  
She had shoulder length dark hair and was of a 'stocky' build. She was clearly an imposing character.  
Without thinking, Alex shuffled back slightly, away from the imposing figure.  
This was no prison officer.  
Alex felt a rush of adrenalin surge through her. She feared that the situation she dreaded had come.  
"It's alright", the figure held her hands up as if to indicate that there was nothing to fear.  
Alex didn't speak. She didn't know why this person was here or what she wanted.  
"My name's Jill", the prisoner continued, "can I come in?"  
Alex didn't see any other choice so she simply nodded.  
Jill walked in and casually plonked herself down next to where Alex sat on the bunk.  
"So..." she queried again, "...copper?"  
Alex knew that if she lied she would eventually be found out, and that wouldn't do her any good in the long run.  
Yet she dreaded revealing that she was a police officer.  
If word got round that there was a copper in the prison, even one accused of a crime, Alex was sure she would become a target for some of the inmates.  
"Yeah...", she reluctantly answered, looking down and not making eye contact.  
Alex wondered for a moment about what might happen next. A punch? A kick to the head?  
"Me too", Jill simply replied.  
Alex almost missed the answer and had to run it by herself again in her mind.  
"Sorry?"Alex turned her head to face Jill, this time making eye contact.  
"You, me", Jill pointed to herself and then to Alex, "coppers!"  
Alex could barely hide her relief and surprise as the words sank in.  
"Look", Jill began to explain, "I've been here quite a bit longer than you. One of the screws said you were a copper and that you looked like you could use a friend while you get used to things".  
For once, Alex didn't know what to say. She had genuinely been expecting to have her head kicked in at any moment on the basis of her career choice.  
Jill held her hand out to Alex, "Jill Bailey...Formerly WPC Jill Bailey, back in the day".  
Alex shook Jill's hand and introduced herself to this ex WPC who, it appeared, was now the nearest thing she had to a friend.  
"Alex Drake", she said, "...Formerly D.I Alex Drake".  
Jill looked surprised and a little impressed.  
"A D.I?" she exclaimed, "Cripes you've done well for yourself luv! Our D.Is were all fellas!".  
Alex smiled in thanks.  
"And look where it's got me", Alex attempted a little black humour.  
"Well", Jill shrugged, "Just goes to show that rank counts for nuthin' in the long run".  
"Seems you might be right", Alex sighed as she answered.  
"Good...Then in that case I won't call you Ma'am", Jill tried to cheer up her new acquaintance as best she could.  
Alex smiled a small smile in response.  
"That's better", Jill responded, pleased that Alex hadn't shunned her approach.  
She observed Alex for a few moments, trying to make out what she could about her in the few moments they had known each other.  
"I see you're worried", Jill stated the fact most obvious to her, "you're worried about them lot out there finding out you're a copper".  
Alex nodded, although 'worried' didn't even come close to describing it.  
"They will find out", Jill couldn't hide the fact, "but in their own time, so don't go broadcasting it obviously. It won't make you any friends and by the time they find out they may have even got to know you".  
Alex silently took the information in.  
"And it depends on what you're in for, but at the moment you're only on remand", Jill continued, "But if what I've heard is true...".  
"What?" Alex's new found confidence ebbed away a little at the prospect of yet another glitch.  
"If what I've heard is true, then quite a few of the girls here might hold you responsible for the deaths of their lawyers", Jill broke the bad news, "lawyers they were pinning their hopes on".  
"The Prices?" Alex asked, not liking the prospect Jill had raised.  
"So it's true then?" Jill quizzed, "You're the one they think did the Prices in?"  
"It's true that the police seem to think I did it", Alex admitted with great reluctance, "but it's all circumstantial".  
Jill turned to face Alex, a look of absolute honesty on her face.  
"That's the other thing around here. Don't go round telling everyone you're innocent".  
"But what if I am?" Alex demanded, her voice showing all the recent frustration.  
"Doesn't matter luv. Pretty much everyone here has claimed they're innocent at one time or another", Jill explained the hard facts, "It doesn't matter if you are or aren't. But some may well hold a grudge against you for the Prices' deaths".  
"Why will no one listen to me?" Alex pleaded and looked up to the ceiling.  
"That's what your lawyer's for. At the end of the day it's his job to get your facts across", Jill tried to reassure Alex, "and friends? Family? They can visit you."  
Alex shook her head at that prospect.  
"Most of my friends are involved in the case", she answered.  
"Family then?" Jill offered the next obvious suggestion.  
"Not really", Alex looked back down again as she thought of her only family.  
"No one at all?" Jill sounded concerned.  
"Well...", Alex began to admit, "...my daughter, Molly".  
"That's good", Jill nodded.  
"But she's far away", Alex explained.  
"Outside of London then?" Jill sounded genuinely sad for her new friend.  
"Much further than that", Alex said as she thought of Molly, "and it's complicated".  
Jill watched Alex again; concluding that some family break up was responsible for the complication she referred to.  
Alex ran a hand over her eyes as if to wipe away tears that were forming.  
"Hey, hey!" Jill placed an arm around Alex's shoulder for comfort, "none of that or I call you Ma'am".  
Alex took a moment to compose herself. She didn't want to cry in the presence of someone she had only just met, yet the strain of the last day or so was beginning to drain her emotionally.  
Jill sat where she was for a moment as Alex suppressed her tears. There was silence. Finally Alex attempted to move the subject along.  
"How long have you been here?" she enquired, "If you don't mind me asking".  
Jill herself sighed now, "six years", she answered in a matter of fact tone.  
Alex nodded and wondered where she herself would be in six years time. She dreaded to think what the answer might be.  
"Did my husband in", Jill volunteered her own tale.  
Alex was surprised but tried to hide any visible reaction from Jill.  
"Don't worry luv, I'm no psycho", Jill assured Alex, "Bastard used to lose control with his fists after he'd had a few with his mates. Did it one time too many though...Kitchen knife".  
Alex suddenly felt terrible for Jill.  
She hadn't tried to analyse Jill as she did with suspects but she certainly hadn't taken her new friend for a killer. Alex had naturally assumed that Jill must be in for something somewhat less serious as she seemed such a nice person and, like herself, had been a police officer.  
Yet even in 2008 Alex had worked on cases of abused wives and girlfriends who had been driven to kill their partners after being forced to the end of their tether by violence.  
"Self defence?" Alex assumed.  
Jill shook her head as her own facts came out.  
"I'd drunk most of a bottle of whiskey in preparation for him coming home that evening. It always hurt less that way y'see", Jill explained, "but I wasn't thinking right and got him as soon as he came in".  
Alex listened to her friend's story. It sounded so familiar to her from cases she had heard time and time again.  
"Court took that as premeditation", Jill shrugged, "life, minimum twenty years".  
She knew Jill had, by her own admission, taken a life.  
But if this had been a case in her own time, Alex was sure that the story of abuse would have been taken into account.  
Obviously this wasn't the case here in 1981.  
"You didn't have to tell me ", Alex said grateful for Jill's admission.  
"I knew your story", Jill shrugged, "only fair you knew mine".  
Alex was surprised at how brutally honest Jill had been.  
The psychologist within her told her that this had been Jill's way of forming a bond of trust between herself and Alex, getting everything out in the open so Alex knew Jill was genuine and only sought to help her.  
Jill smiled and retrieved her arm from around Alex's shoulder, patting her on the shoulder in reassurance instead.  
"You stick with me, Alex", she said full of confidence, "and you'll be fine. I'll show you the ropes and show you around".

Alex appeared relieved that she was no longer quite so alone and smiled back in thanks as Jill got to her feet and began to head for the door.  
"I'll be back to check on you later, I'll show you where to get a book or somethin'", she offered.  
"Thanks", Alex nodded, feeling a little better.  
Jill stopped in the doorway and looked back.  
"Oh and...if any of the girls give you any trouble at all...", Jill began in a serious whisper, "...you tell me and I'll break their legs!".  
Alex raised her eyebrows in surprise and nodded politely.  
She was sure Jill could manage to carry out her threat.  
She certainly looked like someone who could take care of herself, but Alex preferred to fight her own battles.  
"Us coppers gotta stick together after all", Jill said as she left.

End chapter 3

_(Author note - Last time I uploaded a chapter to this site, something went wrong with the upload and some of the spaces between words vanished. If this happens again, please bare with me while I correct it. It's simply and error on this site and not in the checked and uploaded original)_


	4. Inevitable Consequences

Evidence

Chapter 4 - Inevitable Consequences

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap...

"No, I give up", Jill remarked having spent the last few moments tapping the end of her pen on the table in thought.

"Let's come back to that one in a minute then", Alex agreed from where she sat, opposite Jill.

The two of them were sat around a table in the communal, hall like area of their prison wing where inmates were allowed to freely associate and socialise with one another.

They were each armed with a simple biro and in front of them sat the previous day's newspaper, open on the crossword page.

Alex was now in her eighth day in prison and Jill was pleased at the progress her new friend had made.

Jill had shown Alex around, helped her get her bearings and had introduced her to other inmates she deemed safe.

As a result, Alex no longer seemed quite as on edge as she had before.

She was still understandably nervous of some of the other prisoners. The fact that Alex was a police officer seemed to be becoming common knowledge and there were a few prisoners who regularly fixed Alex with very threatening looks.

It was a reaction to be expected but Jill was pleased that the vast majority seemed to not care and just accepted Alex as yet another new face.

Although Alex had made good progress and built some confidence, Jill clearly saw that Alex still found being in prison extremely hard to deal with.

Jill looked back down at the crossword for the next clue.

"Ottawa, capital city of...?" Jill read, "six letters".

"Canada", Alex responded instantly and began to write the word into the white squares of the puzzle.

"That was fast!", Jill was impressed, "I thought Montreal was the capital?".

"No, definitely Ottawa", Alex looked at the remaining blanks on the crossword.

"You been there or something?" Jill enquired, chewing the end of her biro.

"No, it's where ex-husbands disappear to", Alex explained.

"Oh, sorry", Jill lowered her pen and hoped she hadn't struck a sore point.

"Not to worry", Alex shook her head to reassure Jill, "one of those things".

The pair of them had been sat working on thier crossword for most of the morning.

It had helped pass the time and frequently they would stop discussing possible clues and simply chat.

Alex had found Jill to be a very good listener and she was fairly sure Jill felt the same way towards her.

They had discussed many topics in recent days and the pair had become firm friends.

"Crumbs, I'm gonna have to go in a minute", Jill suddenly remembered, "work waits for no man, woman, or ex-WPC".

Alex had learned that Jill had a small prison job working in the kitchens and, as a result, Jill would be taken off to do her work at about this time every week day.

"Will you be alright by yourself?" Jill asked as she got to her feet and scraped the chair along the hard floor.

"Yeah, sure", Alex nodded, "I'll see you later then".

Jill made a small waving gesture and headed off towards a prison officer to be taken to her work.

As a remand prisoner, Alex didn't have to work.

After watching Jill leave, Alex decided to head off, herself.

She got to her feet and decided to go back to her cell on the next level up.

The prison wing was old looking and resembled a very large hall. The painted brick and stone that made up the walls looked very old indeed.

The lowest level had some cells and the association area where both Alex and Jill did their crosswords. Up some old metal stairs was the next level with more cells including Alex's own.

Alex began to climb the stairs in no particular hurry.

Once at the top she walked along the landing, glancing down at some of the inmates the on the bottom level below her.

There was a large wire, mesh like material strung across from one side of the upper level to the other to prevent anyone from being pushed off the landing.

Despite having a practical purpose, things like this couldn't help but make the place seem that little bit more intimidating.

Alex finally reached her cell. It was the fourth one along from the top of the metal steps.

She walked back inside and sat back down on her bottom bunk once again.

Despite having been introduced to the other prisoners and having suffered no major problems, Alex still preferred to return to her cell and effectively 'disappear' when Jill was not around.

She didn't like hiding herself away but Alex still felt vulnerable when she was alone.

Her only problems were from a small group of prisoners, four or five at the most, who seemed like a gang.

They appeared to be in their early twenties, apart from the ringleader who looked a little older.

They had made a point of regularly pushing into Alex if they passed her and passing it off as being accidental.

Alex knew there was nothing accidental about it. It was pure and simple intimidation.

She didn't know if there was a reason why.

Was it because she was a police officer or were they just picking on her because she was new.

Whatever the reason was, Alex had made sure not to tell Jill.

She had been slightly comforted by Jill's promise to deal with anyone who gave her hassle, but at the same time Alex sought not to escalate any possible problems.

The only course of action Alex could think of was to try her best to ignore it.

She hoped that they would either eventually get bored or, unfortunately, move onto the next new person.

It was playground bullying but with adults who were old enough to know better.

Alex took her mind off this issue and wondered what she should do until Jill returned.

Two possible activities sprung to mind.

When Jill had shown her the prison library, if it could even be called such a thing, she had borrowed a book.

It was a book about the works of Shakespeare.

Alex recalled having done more than enough on this subject when she had been at school but, from the poor choice the library offered, it had been one of the few titles she had decided was readable.

It would do to pass some time at least.

The other possibility was slightly more difficult.

She could write a letter.

It was perfectly within the rules to write and send letters, but Alex felt the hard part would be finding the right words if she were to write to Gene.

She desperately wanted to make contact with him but she had felt too ashamed of her situation to request that he visit. In her eyes it would be too soon and she wasn't sure she could deal with him seeing her like this just yet.

The more Alex had thought about it, the more she had favoured the idea of writing him a letter.

It wouldn't be a long letter, just one to say that she was okay, that she was being well treated and that she missed everyone.

A letter also gave Alex the advantage of being in control, and control was something Alex had lost recently. In here Alex wasn't in control: other people controlled her.

If she were to write a letter, she could direct what was said, there would be no awkward silences, and by wording things in a certain manner she could even hide how devastated she really was.

In other words she could put on a brave face and, hopefully, Gene wouldn't see through it. At least, not too much.

Obviously he wouldn't think she was fine, he wasn't stupid after all, but she might be able to hide from him how truly miserable she really was.

She had already requested and been given some paper.

It was marked with the prison service logo and had the prisons name printed on it. Even that felt like an indignity. It was like a stamp of ownership over her.

After a moment of thought, Alex decided she would write the letter.

She knew Gene would be worried about her and she certainly wasn't blind to his feelings towards her. That had been made abundantly clear on their dinner date the day before the car bombing.

Both the paper and the book sat on the bunk where Alex had put them earlier.

She still had the crossword pen and decided that she may as well write the letter now.

She wasn't one hundred percent sure how to go about sending it but she would ask Jill when she came back.

Alex gave great deal of thought as to what exactly she should write as she placed the book under the paper to make it as neat as possible.

The beginning was obvious.

"Dear Gene...", she began.

She thought again. How did you start a letter from prison?

Before she could write anything else Alex looked up.

She could have sworn she heard a thud of some kind.

It sounded like it had come from the next cell.

Alex listened intently for a moment.

No more sound came and Alex put the thought to one side and continued her letter.

"I'm sorry I've taken so long to contact you", that sounded appropriate and truthful, "but as we all know I've had a lot to get used to recently".

Alex stopped again.

She listened longer this time.

That had sounded like a very faint moan from the next cell.

Alex put the writing paper, book and pen down.

She got to her feet and made her way towards her cell door, listening all the way.

She was sure she had heard something, yet she wondered if by investigating she might be making a wrong decision and placing herself into a situation she shouldn't be involved in.

Perhaps a dispute between two other prisoners was taking place in the next cell.

Despite that thought, her instincts forced her to follow up on what sounded to her like someone in distress.

Slowly, Alex emerged from her cell and took the two or three steps towards the doorway of the next cell.

Cautiously she peered into the cell.

Once she saw the sight, her training automatically took over and she rushed inside.

A young girl aged roughly twenty lay on the floor with blood flowing freely from a gash on each wrist.

"Somebody get a doctor!" Alex shouted, hoping that someone would both hear and care.

Alex hastily crashed to her knees at the young girl's side.

The nearest piece of material to her was a tatty shirt on the lower bunk.

Alex grabbed it and ripped it.

She tied the material around each wrist in turn and applied as much pressure as she possibly could in an attempt to stem the flow of blood from the wounds.

"Come on, stay with me!" Alex urged the young girl.

The girl was slipping in and out of consciousness and made the occasional incoherent moan.

Alex couldn't help but notice the small object that lay next to the girl's side where she had dropped it.

It was a small piece of metal which looked like it had been snapped away from some object, maybe a piece of furnishing.

It was clear that it had been crudely sharpened before it had been put to its grizzly use.

Alex was in no doubt that this had been a suicide attempt by the young girl.

As she fought to stem the bleeding, applying all the pressure she could, Alex leant down towards the girl to check for breathing.

She was relieved to find that the girl was indeed breathing but she was taking only very shallow breaths.

"Come on, don't you do this!" Alex continued to urge the girl to fight as the blood began to seep through the improvised bandages.

The sound of several people hurrying along the landing became audible.

Moments later, several prison officers hurried into the cell and gathered around the girl.

"We'll take it from here", a tall male officer ordered as he knelt next to the girl.

Alex felt her left arm being grabbed as another officer hastily pulled her away from the casualty.

Alex was fully trained and qualified to deal with situations and injuries such as this, yet once again this valuable expertise counted for nothing in this place.

"She's slashed her wrists!" Alex explained, determined to get across as much vital and accurate information as she could before she was inevitably ejected from the cell.

"I've stemmed the bleeding as well as best I can", Alex added as she was reluctantly pulled to the door by the officer.

She looked on as the girl became surrounded by the officers kneeling next to her, working on her.

Alex was frustrated and, once back on the landing she shook off the officer's firm grip on her arm in anger.

"Make sure she gets help!" Alex urged before turning sharply and marching back to her own cell.

She walked back inside and headed to the wash basin.

With a turn of the tap, she began to wash the girls blood off her hands.

In 2008 police health and safety rules would forbid her from making physical contact with another person's blood without the use of first aid gloves.

But this had been a life or death situation and Alex had reacted in the only way she knew how.

She shook off the last of the water and dried her hands on a towel.

She was sure the officer who had dragged her from the cell had not understood her meaning when she had urged that the girl be given help.

She hadn't been referring purely to medical help, but more to mental help and emotional support.

She wondered what underlying problems there must be for such a young girl to do such a thing as slash her own wrists.

Perhaps it was simply the fact that the girl felt she couldn't cope with prison, or perhaps she was simply vulnerable.

Whatever the reason, Alex knew the girl was now going to receive the treatment needed for her physical injuries, even if it was in a less than ideal location.

Alex sat back down on the bunk once again.

She could hear the prison officers and, presumably, a prison doctor working away on the girl.

It sounded that she was at least still alive and Alex was thankful for that.

Alex's attention was drawn to the landing once again when she saw movement.

As she looked up she saw the girl being carried past on a stretcher, the prison officers following.

The most senior looking officer stopped by Alex's cell door and looked in, focusing his eyes on Alex.

"Good work", he nodded in a formal manor, "reckon you've saved this one".

Alex nodded. She knew he was simply stating the facts and not praising her personally.

With Alex's nod of acknowledgement, the officer turned and followed the others leaving Alex on her own once again.

She remained where she was. She couldn't help it but she was worried about the girl and hoped desperately that she would be alright.

She supposed that, in here, the only way to find out the outcome would be to simply wait and see if she reappeared.

Alex felt the last of her adrenalin rush begin to fade away as she calmed down where she sat.

She was used to situations like this having been put through numerous first aid courses over the years by the future Met. Used to the situation but not the location.

Alex looked once again to the letter she had begun writing to Gene.

After what had just happened, Alex no longer felt in the writing mood and decided that she would come back to it later.

She leant back in what was fast becoming her usual place, almost like it was a hiding place - sitting on her bunk when Jill wasn't around. Out of sight and out of mind of the other prisoners.

The events of the last few minutes had shown Alex in no uncertain terms what this place could do to someone who didn't stay strong.

Alex knew everyone reacted differently to situations.

In comparison to the girl in the next cell Alex assumed she could be deemed as doing quite well in this situation.

Outwardly she was staying calm and collected.

Inwardly she wanted to scream her innocence from the rooftops and beg to be released.

She hoped she would never come to the point where slashing her own wrists might become an option.

Alex rarely allowed herself to think about the future.

At the moment she simply took life one day at a time. It was all she could do because, if she didn't currently deal with life in this way she feared she might crumble.

Alex snapped herself out of these thoughts. It was a waste of time to think like this.

She couldn't allow herself to dwell on her negative situation.

With that in mind, Alex got back to her feet and moved to the doorway.

The prison officers had long since left the cell next door and things had promptly returned to what passed here for normality.

Alex didn't intend to stray far, just to the landing to stretch her legs.

As Alex reached the cell door she neither saw nor heard any warning of the impending ambush.

The first indication of anything being wrong was the impact.

A fist from a person lying in wait outside the cell door made sharp contact as it struck Alex hard in the face, causing her to stumble backwards into her cell.

Before Alex could even look back up, she felt another strike to the head as her attackers quickly bundled into her cell to avoid any alarm being raised by witnesses

The force of the second blow caused Alex to fall backwards against the wall, the back of her head striking the brick work. Slowly she sank to her knees, dazed.

Alex finally caught a glimpse of her assailants as she looked unsteadily up, feeling warm blood in her mouth from a cut to her lip.

It was the gang of girls who had been watching her with disdain over the last few days.

The lead girl stepped back and nodded to one of her lackeys, a black haired girl in her mid twenties with a small broken heart tattoo on her arm.

"This ones your's I believe Kim", she nodded to the girl, "promised you we'd get her".

Kim nodded with glee and stepped forwards.

"This is for my bro!", Kim spat and aimed a vicious kick at Alex's stomach.

Alex fell forwards onto the floor from her knees and struggled to shield herself with her arms as Kim continued to kick her as hard as she could.

She gasped for air as the angry young girl continued to plant kick after kick into her with all the force she could muster.

"Good going!" the lead girl observed as she watched her young protégé lay into the police officer.

Alex was struggling to breathe. Every time she made a gasp for air, she would receive another kick to the stomach or chest.

"That's enough!" the lead girl ordered and another of the gang pulled Kim away from Alex, holding the angry young girl back by her arms.

They looked down at Alex as Kim struggled momentarily against the other gang members grip.

Alex lay barely conscious on her side on the hard floor making the occasional gasping cough.

Her hair had mostly covered her face but blood could be seen trickling from the gash Alex had received to her lip.

"Right now go!" the gang leader ordered, "quickly!".

They turned to leave, releasing Kim.

Kim took full advantage of the opportunity and, before leaving the cell, dashed forward and gave Alex a forceful kick to the head.

"OUT!" the leader ordered and Kim this time obeyed, finally satisfied.

With everyone out the gang leader took one last look at Alex before leaving.

The police officer was now clearly unconscious on the floor, eyes shut and no movement except for her shallow breathing.

The gang leader nodded in satisfaction and then left.

* * *

"Alex! Alex!"

...

"Come on Alex, wake up!"

...

"Alex?"

Jill was frantic with worry.

She had returned from her kitchen job and been unable to find Alex in the association area.

Naturally Jill had assumed that the only other place Alex could be was in her cell so Jill had decided to go and find her. They could finally finish that crossword after all and Jill had been giving much thought to the clue they hadn't been able to figure out.

Upon reaching Alex's cell, Jill had looked in and been horrified to see her friend lying unconscious on the floor having clearly been attacked.

"Alex, come on, speak to me!"

Jill hastily knelt beside Alex, gently tapping her face with her hand to try and generate a response.

Jill concluded that this couldn't have happened too long ago as the blood from the gash on Alex's lip was reasonably fresh.

"For goodness sake, wake up!" Jill again urged.

She pushed Alex's hair back out of her face and continued to try and rouse her hurt friend.

Finally Jill was relieved the see a slight movement.

As Jill spoke her words of encouragement she saw Alex's eyes partially open.

"That's it, come on", Jill continued.

Jill's own police training was coming back to her as she witnessed her friend regaining consciousness.

"Don't try to move yet", she said, placing her hand on Alex's arm for reassurance.

Alex breathed out a painful breath and finally opened her eyes fully, focusing on Jill.

"Hey", Jill continued now her friend seemed to be regaining her senses, "You okay? Anything broken?"

Alex blinked a couple times as she got her bearings back and events started to come back to her.

"I don't think so", Alex rasped in a pained whisper and held her hand out for Jill to help her sit up.

Taking the hint Jill took Alex's arm and gently helped her friend sit up, leaning Alex's back against the bunk.

"What on Earth happened?" Jill enquired looking serious, "And don't say it was an accident. Someone got to you didn't they?".

Reluctantly Alex nodded as she rubbed the bump on the back of her head. It was swelling up nicely and was already tender to the touch.

"A group of them", Alex explained, "a girl called Kim seems to have a grudge against me".

Alex made a pained sound as she felt her lip with the back of her hand and then saw the blood.

It stung terribly in reaction to her touch.

Jill got to her feet and grabbed the nearby towel.

"Here use this", she urged passing it to Alex.

Alex held the towel to her lip to stop the last of the bleeding, as she continued to explain.

"She said this was for her brother", Alex recounted what had happened.

"Hmmm..." Jill thought as she took in the details, "she's a right little yob, that Kim, but from what she's said in the past her older brother's even dodgier, really shady bloke apparently".

"So he must be someone I arrested", Alex sighed in the comprehension that she had unwittingly gained an enemy in the prison without even realising it.

"Probably", Jill agreed, "Kim's got a bit of hero worship, where her brother's concerned, but she's too thick to hit the big time like her brother. She'll never be anything more than a vicious little mugger."

"What's her brothers name?", Alex cautiously asked as a list of nasty male characters she had encountered in 1981 ran quickly through her mind.

"Dunno, sorry", Jill said apologetically, "but she's always on about him. Reckon you can stand yet?"

Jill took Alex by the arm, helping her to her feet.

Alex winced with pain as she got to her feet and Jill pointed to the bunk.

"C'mon, lie down", Jill urged, "think you need a rest".

Alex saw the sense in Jill's recommendation and sat herself down on the bunk, pulled her feet slowly up onto it and laid painfully back. She could feel the inevitable bruises starting to form on her body as she breathed.

"That's better", Jill smiled sitting herself down, "now take it easy".

Alex smiled in thanks to her good friend as she continued to dab the towel on her cut.

"I take it you're not going to make a complaint?" Jill asked, "It might serve to make matters worse".

Alex nodded in agreement. She may be new to this place but she knew you didn't go grassing people up to prison officers, even if you were the victim.

"Good", Jill agreed, "If you did you might turn more than just that Neary bitch against you".

"Neary?!", Alex repeated the name, "Kim's surname is Neary?!".

"Yeah that's right", Jill nodded, "Kim Neary, she's in for burgling a pensioners house and then attacking the old bloke when he caught her at it. World war two veteran too, the bitch".

"Neary..." Alex repeated again as she thought of the possible implications of this, "...shit!".

"You remember her brother now then?" Jill asked seeing that Alex had clearly realised why Kim held a grudge against her.

"Simon Neary", Alex began, "Ran a large vice ring, smuggled various illegal items, killed our informant and was trying to import guns by the time we went after him".

"But you got him?" Jill checked," 'cos Kim's always on about her older brother being in jail".

"Yes we got him", Alex nodded where she lay, "but he was shot, shot badly. And not by a police officer...I'd managed to persuade his boyfriend to turn informant...that's who shot him".

"Boyfriend?" Jill raised her eyebrows, "Kim's certainly edited _that_ bit of info out of her stories!".

"Yeah well..." Alex had long ceased being surprised by 1981's attitude towards that particular subject, "I'm guessing she probably holds me responsible for both her brother's shooting and his arrest".

Alex finally put the towel one side once she was satisfied she had done all she could for her wound.

"Stopped bleeding?" she checked.

"Yup", Jill nodded.

The two fell silent as their conversation reached it's natural conclusion.

Jill remained where she was on the end of Alex's bunk.

She wasn't planning on going anywhere now this had happened.

She would remain here, as Alex rested, in case any of the girls returned.

If they did, she would give them something to think about as Jill was certainly more than able to defend herself.

Yet she felt slightly guilty at the same time.

"It's my fault", she blurted out.

Alex opened her eyes, having shut them in response to the headache she could feel coming.

"My damned kitchen job", Jill continued, "if I hadn't left you to go chop up bloody vegetables, this would never have happened".

"It's not your fault at all", Alex was surprised, "You can't be around all the time...and I have to take some responsibility for myself".

"I know, I know", Jill relented, "I just don't like people doing this to a friend. It makes me so mad".

"I think they just saw a window of opportunity", Alex explained.

"The girl next door you mean?" Jill asked clearly having heard about the attempted suicide.

"Yeah", Alex nodded, "Once the officers took her away, I guess they were distracted for a moment and the girls took their chance".

"Sounds about right", Jill agreed.

"Well you just shut your eyes and rest", Jill ordered, "I'll sit here and read your book, even if it is deathly dull".

Alex smiled and complied with Jill's words.

She shut her eyes again and hoped she might even drift off to sleep.

She certainly felt like she could do with a sleep.

Her entire body ached. Even the pillow hurt the back of her head and Alex could feel her bruises with every breath she took.

Yet she felt the inevitable was over. Her fears about being a police officer in prison had, after all, been validated.

She had avoided any confrontation for eight days but she just knew that there would be someone who would seek to cause her harm.

With this in mind, and now knowing her attacker's connection to Simon Neary, Alex couldn't help but worry whether or not she might even make it to her trial.

Her conclusion was that, from now on, she was going to have to be very, very careful.

It was possible that this act may have satisfied Kim, but Alex couldn't rule out that she might try again or attempt even worse.

With no trial date yet set, Alex would simply have to wait it out.

If luck decided to shine her way the trial would come quickly and she would be released after being found not guilty.

Alex had tried hard to stay positive and reassure herself that the evidence against was flimsy and proved nothing.

She just desperately hoped that the jury would also see it that way.

But until then, all she could do was go out of her mind with worry in prison.

End chapter 4.

_(Author note - As with chapter 2 I sometimes have problems with formatting when I upload fics to the site. Sometimes it loses gaps and bunches stuff all together, despite having been beta'd. If this happens with this chapter, please take that into account as I don't yet know what causes this website to do this)._


	5. The Visitor

Evidence

Chapter 5

The Visitor

With no use of an indicator at all, the red Audi Quattro pulled into a parking space at the side of the road, stopping alongside a grassy park area surrounded with freshly painted railings. The driver of the Quattro emerged from his vehicle and shut the door behind him, making sure to lock it up after him. Nobody was helping themselves to this baby.

Gene looked at his watch; 09:55am. With determination he walked along the pavement and into the entrance to the small park, reaching into his overcoat and pulling out a box of cigarettes and lighter. Placing the cigarette between his lips, he lit it and inhaled deeply. After a moment, he blew out the smoke and continued walking briskly, feeling his frustration building. Putting the cigarettes back inside his coat, Gene looked ahead and saw the person who had asked to meet with him. God, how he hated this smug bastard.

Evan White sat on a park bench. He got to his feet as he saw the detective chief inspector approach.

"Good morning, DCI Hunt!" Evan chirped, holding out his hand.

"Mornin'." Gene bluntly replied, shaking it.

It was the first time Gene had seen Evan since the immediate aftermath of the car bombing.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Gene asked, as he sat himself down on the bench and blew his smoke in Evans general direction, "And why ask to meet me 'ere and not at the nick?".

"It seemed neutral ground," Evan explained, "I know we don't always see eye to eye on matters".

"Too bloody right," Gene agreed, "I nick 'em, you get 'em off on a loophole".

"That is my job," Evan factually stated, "but there is one matter we do see eye to eye on...Your D.I".

All of a sudden, Evan had Gene's full attention.

Alex had been pretty much the only thing on Gene's mind since the day she had left the station, dragged away by another branch of CID. Since that day, the office had been strangely quiet; gone was the laughter and even the enthusiasm for the job. Even the fiery arguments were missed. Gene felt like a major part of his life had suddenly gone missing.

Things were not better outside of work. The evening drinks in Luigi's had become subdued - to the point where people were leaving early after only one or two. The laughter and shouts of "Grassy arse!" had seemingly died away in the days since.

Gene had found a small amount of comfort in Ray. His detective sergeant had a history of always being there for him and Ray had made sure he sat with Gene in Luigi's most evenings, assisting him in drowning his sorrows. He constantly reassured him that the whole mess would be cleared up soon - even trying to cheer Gene up by raising the prospect of "re-stamping her arse" upon her return. Despite Ray's best efforts, it was all in vain. Gene had spent the last few days under a black cloud, at moments subdued, other times just plain fuming with anger, exploding at the smallest of things.

Gene peered at Evan.

"What about her?" Gene demanded, "You know somethin' we don't?"

"I saw George Jarvis yesterday," Evan began to explain, "Alex's lawyer".

'I know who he is you posh prick!' Gene thought quietly to himself. He knew Jarvis was taking the case at Evan's request and that he was also very good, every bit as annoying as Evan when it came to blasting holes in police enquiries.

"Has he seen her?" Gene asked - hungry for more news, "is she alright?"

"Yes, he's seen her," Evan nodded, "He met with Alex yesterday to run through some possible lines of defence."

"Sod the bloody defence for a moment, I asked if she's alright?" Gene barked, exasperated. He didn't like having to repeat himself.

"If you want my honest answer..." Evan paused, for once unsure of how to word his response, "I'd say I'm not sure."

"What do you mean you're not sure? This Jarvis bloke's got eyes hasn't he? What did he tell you?"

Gene was concerned that something wasn't right; Evan sighed, his face too showing concern for Alex.

"I met George for lunch yesterday after a case was adjourned," Evan began to explain, "naturally, I asked about Alex".

"And?..."

"I just thought you should know that…" Evan hesitated, "…she's been... attacked."

"Attacked?!" Gene felt his heart jump. He sat in uncharacteristic silence for a moment as the news sank in. He had clung to the hope that Alex would be able to keep her head down and simply get by where she was.

"Is she okay?" Gene demanded, "Who did it? Just gimme a name and I'll..."

"She claimed it was an accident." said Evan, shaking his head.

"What?!" Gene fumed.

"George said that when he met with Alex she was clearly bruised and had a cut lip," Evan explained, "when he tried to get details out of her she claimed she'd slipped. He didn't believe her and neither do I".

Gene listened gravely. By crossing Alex, the attacker had also crossed Gene Hunt. If he found out the name of the culprit he would pull strings, any strings to cause them some grief in return.

"You know how it is." Evan continued, "She can't name names, not in her position."

Gene understood all too well.

"I have to see her." Gene thought out loud.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Evan sounded unsure.

"I have to," Gene reiterated, "I can't 'ave her thinkin' we've forgotten about her."

"Why not send someone on your behalf?" Evan suggested, "I know you want to see her, as do I, but we're both likely to be called as witnesses in the case and it could jeopardise her position if we interact with her before the trial."

'Christ! Why does this bastard have to be right!?' Gene thought to himself in annoyance.

He was desperate to see Alex; now knowing that she had been hurt, he wanted to drop everything and head to the prison right away, batter the doors down and pull Alex out of there. He knew people such as the Chief Super had urged him to remain neutral and not get involved, but Alex was one of his team - more than just one of his team - and he couldn't simply abandon her.

He didn't care what that smug lawyer thought, Gene was desperate to see Alex and he decided he would go.

After meeting with Evan, Gene's immediate actions had been to contact the prison and arrange a visit; he had been given a time and date, the very next day at 2pm.

* * *

Gene sat, his foot tapping; he wasn't the most patient man in the world and this was a fact he knew well. He wasn't even sure if he was doing the right thing by being here. He looked at his watch yet again and huffed. So close and yet still a few minutes to go…

The room, grey and soulless, was similar to the one Gene and Alex had visited Arthur Layton in prior to the car bombing. Impatiently Gene looked through the glass panel in front of him and stared at the door the other side, willing it to open.

He felt anxious at the thought of seeing Alex again. His last sight of her had been seeing her cuffed and then briskly pulled through the doors of his own CID department days ago. It was a moment he had replayed in his mind numerous times since. He wished he had stepped it and prevented it yet, realistically and legally, he knew there was nothing he could have done.

Since then Gene had thought of very little other than Alex and how she might be coping. He knew she was strong but he also knew how much she occasionally lacked common sense.

He had been in the job long enough to know what sort of people filled these prisons and he knew it was a very bad place for a copper to be in. Male or female, villains were all the same in Gene's eyes. Real villains, at least.

That had been a major fear of his own when he himself had been framed for the murder of boxing promoter Terry Haslam. Thankfully and to Gene's own relief that had all been sorted, and the real killer found, in a matter of days. Alex, it appeared, was in far deeper trouble.

With the sound of a lock being undone, Gene looked up and stared straight ahead. It was finally happening. As he looked, the door opposite opened and Gene finally saw the sight he had longed for over the last few weeks. He got to his feet as he watched Alex walk in, an officer shutting the door behind her.

They made eye contact immediately yet, for once, neither knew what to say. After several drawn out moments Gene spoke.

"Come sit down you daft tart." Gene broke the ice, urging Alex to come towards him. He wasn't trying to be funny, he just wanted to break the awkward silence.

Alex took the few steps towards Gene and sat down on the seat opposite him on her side of the glass.

"Hi." she said quietly. It was the only thing she could think of to say.

Gene looked at the sight before him. His Alex Drake was a lively and mouthy posh tart who rarely knew when to shut up. The Alex before him appeared tired, pale and quiet; a dark bruise was visible to the side of her right eye and the gash to her lip was beginning to heal. Gene sighed loudly at the sight before him. He could see that Alex had tried to hide the bruise as best she could under her hair but it was no good, he had seen it plain as day.

"You're a bloody mess." Gene observed.

Alex said nothing and simply looked down. She had been dreading seeing Gene ever since she had heard of his visiting request. She could have declined the visit but had decided that she couldn't hide from him forever.

"It's good to see you too.", Alex looked up once again.

"I didn't mean to be off, Bolls," Gene said apologetically, "I've...we've...been worried about you."

Alex finally made a small smile, comforted by the knowledge that she was still in peoples thoughts.

"Thanks," she replied, "I miss everyone too, so much."

Another awkward silence followed. The tension of not knowing what to say could be cut with a knife. Gene had come to the prison with so much to say to Alex. He had planned words of reassurance, encouragement, and even small talk if necessary, yet now this powerful D.C.I found himself in the rare position of being stuck for words.

"How are you?" Alex moved the conversation on for him.

"Me?" Gene was surprised as he had come here to find out about Alex rather than the other way around, "Oh...I'm fine. Well, missin' you harpin' on at me every few minutes. It's quiet without your gob around the place."

Alex smiled slightly again.

"Ray's been made _acting_ D.I." Gene continued with a firm emphasis on the word acting, "but it's just until you're back...'cos I'd rather stare at your arse than Carling's."

"Until I'm back..." Alex repeated.

"Yeah," Gene nodded, "once this load of ol' bollocks has been shoved where it belongs."

"You know, that might not happen, Gene." Alex stated with no emotion. It was an idea she had spent quite some time getting used to.

"Bollocks again!" Gene retorted, "You know you're innocent, I know you're innocent!"

"And every innocent person gets off, do they, Gene?" Alex asked, looking directly into his eyes, "No innocent person's ever gone down for a crime they haven't committed?"

Gene was silent. He knew she was right. Being right was, in Gene's view, one of Alex's more annoying traits.

"You're not going down Bolly!" Gene stated and tapped his finger on the surface in accompaniment to each word to emphasise the strength of his belief.

Alex merely shrugged. Gene didn't like this. The Alex he knew would fight her case tooth and claw until she was proved right, even over the smallest of issues; yet, the Alex sat in front of him right now seemed resigned to her situation.

"Christ, Bolls!" Gene began, "Where's all your fight gone?"

"Fight? Gene, what is there to fight? Look around, do you think anyone here cares whether I'm innocent or not?" Alex looked hard at Gene and pointed to the door she had entered through. "All everyone in here sees is a copper in need of a kicking!" Alex dropped her head into her hands and stared down at the table surface. She knew this would happen, that she would inevitably end up fighting with Gene. She hadn't meant to, but weeks of pent up emotion was becoming hard to hide away.

Some days Alex coped, or pretended to cope fine. Other days she wanted cry or scream or to even hit something to vent frustration. She was beginning to understand how a caged animal felt, penned in with nowhere to run.

"Is that what 'appened?" Gene leant towards Alex and asked in a quieter and more gentle tone, "I see the bruises Bolly, you can't hide 'em. Was it for bein' a copper?"

Alex raised her head and looked to Gene. She looked troubled.

"Kim Neary" she simply stated, "does that name ring a bell?"

"Neary?" Gene remembered the surname all too well.

Alex pointed to the dark bruise by her eye and pushed her hair back to give Gene an unobstructed view of it.

"This is my reward for her brothers shooting and arrest." Alex explained.

"His bloody sister's in 'ere?!" Gene was both angry and alarmed.

Alex nodded.

"I'd been so bloody careful Gene. I'd watched my back for days, weeks," Alex explained, "but they jumped me when the prison officers were distracted by a suicide attempt."

"Bloody bitch!" Gene cursed and brought the palm of his hand down loudly onto the surface, "There must be somethin' I can do...a few quid a certain way and maybe she can have a mishap..."

"No, Gene! No..." Alex held up her hand to stop Gene's train of thought before it went any further, "I appreciate it, really...but you might make things even worse. And if anyone were to find out, well it's hardly going to help my case is it?"

Gene nodded, reluctantly and breathed out an angry breath. He hated feeling this powerless.

"You have to do something Bolls." Gene ran a hand through his hair as he thought, "Look, if she starts on you again you're gonna have to defend yerself, you can't just sit back and get beaten to a pulp on a weekly basis!"

"I know, I know..." Alex acknowledged the harsh facts with a nod, "You know me Gene, I'm not the violent type, but I do have an idea of how to deal with her if she starts again. And that's IF, Gene."

"Just don't do anything stupid," Gene ordered, his tone no nonsense, "really, don't."

"I won't," Alex assured him, "I promise."

"Anyone else giving you trouble?" Gene dreaded to ask.

Alex shook her head and Gene immediately looked relieved.

"Good," Gene nodded, "because they're all lying, murdering scumbags in 'ere...present company excepted."

"Not all of them..." Alex was quick to defend her only friend in the prison.

"Oh really?" Gene was suprised to say the least, "Got a new best friend 'ave we?"

"Jill." Alex explained, "She's kind of taken me under her wing."

"Lesbo, then?" Gene tactlessly enquired.

"Christ, Gene!" Alex threw Gene a look of amazement at his bluntness, "No she's an ex-bloody WPC and she's tried to help me get by in here!"

Gene smirked. He had only made the comment to try and provoke a response from Alex and it had worked. He was pleased when she had shot him her 'Shut up Gene!' look that he was so accustomed to being on the receiving end of. It took Alex only a moment to work out that Gene had merely been toying with her. She sat back and relaxed a little.

"Jill heard that I'm a Police officer and helped me settle in, showed me the ropes, taught me how it all works." Alex told Gene the story.

"So, this Jill," Gene began, "she's watchin' yer back then?"

"Seems to be," Alex nodded, "I think she's just trying to help because we're in the same situation and in for the same thing."

"Blimey! Are there any coppers who haven't been done for murder at some point?" Gene wondered out loud. Alex failed to laugh. She didn't think Jill's reason for being there was particularly amusing yet she knew Gene was unaware of it so said nothing.

"You say she's in for murder Bolls?" Gene quizzed, "Not some psycho is she? Won't jump you when yer backs turned will she?" Despite his lack of tact, Gene was genuinely concerned at the thought of a convicted murderer being so close to Alex.

"She killed her abusive husband," Alex explained, "and now she's paying for it."

Gene took the information in momentarily and nodded in understanding.

"Well if she can 'elp keep you in one piece until all of this is over I'll be sure to buy 'er a drink when she gets out." Gene was reassured that Alex a tleast had one seemingly safe ally to rely on. "And you Bolls," Gene continued, "Luigi's will never 'ave seen a party so big once we get you back!"

Gene's optimism failed to infect Alex. She simply leant back in the seat and breathed out a long sigh.

"Gene, I might be here a long time." she sounded down again, "You know the sentence for murder as well as I do."

"Bollocks!" Gene shook his head, "Won't 'appen, can't 'appen!"

"Face facts Gene!" Alex's frustrations were clearly audible, "I've seen what they've got against me! Yes, it's circumstantial but God, Gene, it's so strong even I'd think me guilty if I were confronted with this evidence!"

"Don't talk bloody stupid Bolly!" Gene said loudly leaning forwards towards Alex, "Besides, we know who did it anyway!"

"But that can't be revealed!" Alex argued back.

"Y'know, sometimes I really think you are mad," Gene huffed, "you can't go down for two murders you didn't commit just to keep a bloody secret!"

"Tim and Caroline's daughter mustn't find out what her father did!" Alex emphasised, now slightly less sure of how unreal this world was than she had been upon her initial arrival in 1981.

"God, have mercy!" Gene cried, "Let it go! The Prices are dead! Yes, it was tragic, but look where it's got you! Banged up, maybe for life. Life, Bolly! For the sake of a bloody secret! Drake, this madness, tell them about Tim bloody Price!" Gene blew out an angry huff of frustration as he glared at Alex, desperate for her to see sense.

"Gene, we destroyed the evidence!" Alex retaliated, referring to Tim Price's VHS confession which had been destroyed in Gene's office.

'Damn her' Gene thought, she was being bloody right again. He smoothed his emerging stubble with his hand. He was beginning to see Alex's impossible situation, damned if she did, damned if she didn't.

"If I did tell them about Tim," Alex began in a gentler tone, "a story of a VHS confession that we now no longer possess would hardly be believed. And you would be dropped in it for destroying evidence."

"I don't care Bolls," Gene shook his head defiantly, "if it gets you out..."

Alex sat there, shaking her head at Gene's words.

"I can't, it wouldn't be believed for a second and it would destroy that little girl's world."

"Bloody 'ell Bolly, this is ridiculous!" Gene felt Alex's own frustration. "So 'ave you got a better idea then?"

Alex sat in silence for several moments before explaining the only possible way she could see events going.

"It's just going to have to go to trial. Hopefully, my lawyer can blow enough holes in the circumstantial evidence and put enough doubt in the jurors' minds." the explanation continued, "If it can't be proven beyond reasonable doubt then they cannot convict...I hope."

"And if they do?" Gene didn't like to ask but the inevitable possibility had to be touched upon.

"Then I'll just have to appeal."

"And if that fails spend the next what, ten, twenty, thirty years in prison?" Gene hated the very thought of losing Alex for that long, "that's most of your bloody life Drake!"

"Well what else can I do!?" Alex banged her hand on the surface. The very prospect had clearly upset her and Gene could see the tears in her eyes as she attempted to compose herself.

"Sshhhh, shhhhhh!" Gene brought the conversation to a halt, unwilling to continue upsetting her.

He wanted so badly to touch her, to just place his hand on her shoulder in comfort yet the glass separating them prevented it. Gene felt anxious. Seeing what a few weeks in this place had done to Alex made him fearful of what several years might do.

"Look Bolls," Gene began again, "let's not jump the gun 'ere. We don't know what's going to 'appen so let's take this a day at a time."

Alex nodded, wiping her eyes and calming herself. Gene clenched his fists out of Alex's view. He wanted to smash that damned glass that separated them.

"Look I don't reckon I can stay much longer Bolls," Gene hated saying it. He would stay with Alex for as long as it took to make sure she was alright if he could, "and Evan said I could bring some stuff in for yer. Nothin' flash, just some extra clothes and bits...well, Shaz picked some bits outta yer flat...I thought she'd be better at choosin' stuff, y'know being a bird an all."

"That's kind," Alex nodded in gratitude, "and you've seen Evan?"

"Who do you think told me about you being hurt?" Gene gestured for Alex to take a guess.

"Evan?" she sounded surprised.

"Your lawyer bloke, Jarvis," Gene explained, "told him over some posh lunch. He thought I should know so he asked to meet me."

"Always watching out for me, Evan…" Alex mumbled quietly, too quietly for Gene to hear.

"Time's up!"

Neither of them had heard or seen the door behind Alex open. The officer approached Alex and with a wave of his hand for her to leave the room. Reluctantly Alex got to her feet and Gene too got to his.

"Remember, don't take any hassle!" Gene urged as he tried to think of something useful to end their encounter with. The officer took Alex by the arm and led her to the door.

"Give my love to everyone!" Alex called, with genuine fondness for her friends as she looked back at Gene all the way as she was lead out.

"I'm thinking of you Bolls!" Gene called louder as Alex was led through the door.

The door shut behind her and Gene was now alone. It was as if she had never been there. He let out a large sigh and ran both his hands through his hair as he digested the encounter. "I'm always bloody thinkin' of yer".

* * *

Gene walked briskly across the prison car park as he headed towards the Quattro. He looked back at the imposing prison, knowing that Alex was in there somewhere. He felt a mixture of emotions inside himself as he walked. He was relieved to have at least seen her.

In his mind for all these weeks he had worried about her. It had been silly little things like wondering if she was eating well or if she was sleeping properly. He worried about her at night when he tried to sleep. He couldn't help but feel guilty that he was sleeping in a warm bed when he knew that, at the same time, Alex was sleeping on a hard metal bunk with only basic bedding. He worried whether she would be cold at night in the dark cell after lights out. He hated the thought that she might be lying there shivering. Did she sleep or did she lie awake at night, her head full or worries, just like he did. The bigger worries of Gene's had been more obvious, a copper in jail, would she be bullied, was she strong enough to cope with prison? How many hours a day was she locked up for?

Gene had come away with mixed answers. He felt that Alex both was and was not coping. He could see clearly that prison had certainly had an impact on her. She was quieter than usual which was hardly surprising as she had been plucked from her ordinary life so suddenly and then had the hope of bail snatched away from her before being taken away to the prison.

Yet she was clearly hanging in there. Gene was satisfied that Alex was watching her back. The opportunistic attack as officers dealt with the suicide attempt was, Gene reluctantly accepted, purely down to bad luck. He was also relieved that Alex had a friend in this Jill she had mentioned. He was pleased that she wasn't entirely alone. But he knew that Alex knew how people worked and he felt that her 'psychiatry' was something she could put to good use against the likes of the Neary girl. Kim's weapons may be her fists but Gene was sure that Alex's best weapon was her mind. Failing that Gene knew from personal experience that, if pushed, Alex was certainly capable of landing an impressive punch if required.

But Gene was angry as well. Angry at fate and he felt selfish for allowing himself to feel like this. He knew it had been too much to hope for. After the recent down that Gene had experienced in life he had allowed himself to wonder, just a little bit, if Alex might have been his chance at dare he say the word...happiness. Once Gene had seen the bruise on her face and the cut on her lip, he had wanted nothing more than to put his arms around her and hold her, like in the vault at Edgehampton, and tell her that everything would be okay.

For several days before Alex's arrest Gene had been pondering asking her out for a second date. He felt such a fool now. He had spent days pondering and pondering about asking her but a convenient moment had never occurred. The first time he had asked her out to dinner he had felt like an embarrassed little school boy asking out his classroom crush. He hadn't even had the balls to look her in the eyes in the moments after asking. Yet the evening had gone well and he hadn't made a fool of himself.

He had wondered if now was the right time for a second attempt at wining and dining Alex but this time he had wanted to take her elsewhere. Luigi's was nice but too close to CID base. For a proper date he was going to take Alex to somewhere pricey and posh. He didn't have a clue where, he would have to ask around. But the second date had never come and Alex had been dragged from the station by that stony-faced DCI from a few roads away. It seemed life found it amusing to take the people Gene felt closest to.

He pulled his car keys from his pocket as he neared the Quattro. With a quick turn the driver-door was unlocked and Gene got in, slamming the door moodily behind him. "Bloody idiot." he chastised himself as he thought.

He cast his mind back to Tim Price's VHS confession and remembered pulling the tape from the cassette before stamping repeatedly on the lot. He didn't like to admit it but Alex was right. Talk of a mysterious VHS tape that had mysteriously vanished would be demolished by the prosecution, even if Gene admitted destroying it. It would be deemed far too convenient a story and simply never be believed. In the end it would make both Alex and Gene appear as a pair of liars and that would do no end of damage to Alex's case.

He started the car engine and the Quattro greeted its master with a roar of its powerful engine. Gene let it tick over for a few minutes. He was still thinking everything over. He hoped the bag of items he had brought in for Alex would be given to her soon. It had been taken upon arrival to be searched and given to her later. "Like I'm smuggling in a bloody kilo of cocaine!" Gene muttered in annoyance and sighed. He knew he should be getting back to CID soon. There were cases piling up, but right now, all Gene felt the need to do was open his single malt and down a glass or two. It didn't change anything but, just for a moment, it dulled the pain a little.

* * *

Jill sat on Alex's bunk, flicking through the Shakespeare book as she waited for her friend to return. She had read a few bits here and there but had decided it simply wasn't her cup of tea...too full of "Thee's", "Thy's" and "Thou's". Jill wondered if it was even in English at all at some points. Jill cast the book to one side. It would seem that she and Mister Shakespeare were destined not to get on.

"No, I'm definately a crossword girl..." Jill muttered to herself.

Next to Jill was a shoebox sized box with Alex's name and prison number written on it. An officer had come in and, knowing she was trustworthy, left it in Jills care. Jill had made sure that she would sit with it until Alex returned from her visitor. She wasn't going to let anyone help themselves to it, especially the Neary girl. Jill looked up when she heard footsteps approaching. Before she even saw her she knew it was Alex because it was about now that visiting time ended. Jill stood as her friend appeared in the doorway.

"Hey!" Jill called, "How did your visit go?"

Alex slowly stepped into the cell. She was clearly feeling visibly emotional after the highly charged visit.

"Fine...It was fine." Alex responded in a voice barely more than a whisper.

She couldn't bring herself to look at Jill and simply tried to put on a brave face. Jill could see the turbulence within Alex. She took her friends hand and sat her down next to her.

"Look, your friends have sent you some bits in." Jill pointed to the box.

Alex lifted the lid of the box and pulled out her red top. She was about to dig out the next item when Jill continued. She knew Alex had been apprehensive about this visit.

"It was a bit too much for you wasn't it? The first visit always is, but don't worry luv, it does get easier." Jill put her arm around Alex's shoulder and pulled her friend towards her. "C'mon", she urged, "let it all out."

As Jill comforted her, Alex felt weeks of pain finally give and she began to sob her heart out.

"I don't think I can do this, Jill!" Alex reluctantly admitted through her tears, "I don't want people to see me like this!"

"S'alright...shhhh…" Jill hugged Alex, feeling desperately sad for her friend and remembering her own early days in the prison.

"I shouldn't even be here! I need to be home with my little girl!" Alex sobbed. She was helpless, stuck in this 1981 prison and realising how it could prevent her from ever seeing Molly again.

Alex closed her eyes and continued to cry as her friend held her. She was scared. Scared of never seeing her child again. Scared of spending decades locked away in prison for something she didn't do. And scared that being locked up in 1981 could represent a negative change in her 2008 condition, possibly making waking up even more unattainable.

End chapter 5

_(Author note - As with previous chapters I sometimes have problems with formatting when I upload fics to the site. Sometimes it loses gaps and bunches stuff all together, despite having been beta'd. If this happens with this chapter, please take that into account as I don't yet know what causes this website to do this during the upload)._

Many thanks to real life solicitor Skywise for advice on legal/remand issues :)


	6. Checkmate

Evidence 6

Alex paced back and forth in the small, restricted space inside the cell. It was nearly six o'clock and she was waiting for the late afternoon lock up to come to its end, anxious for that imposing metal door to be unlocked. She hated being cooped up like this. The four walls often felt as if they were closing in on her.

At seven o'clock in the morning the cells were unlocked to allow a head count and then Alex and her fellow prisoners would be allowed to go and get what passed for breakfast in this hell hole. They were then locked up again until eight o'clock when they would again be let out and those with jobs inside the jail would gradually be taken away at their appointed work times.

Lunch, if it could be called such a thing, was served at midday after which some would return to their jobs. At two o'clock others like Alex would be locked up again for the afternoon. Now it was almost time for the cells to be unlocked again and their inhabitants to be allowed out to freely, as freely as one could in prison, associate with one another.

Alex stopped, looked at the heavy door and tapped her foot impatiently with her arms folded. She wasn't usually this impatient but today she had something that needed to be done, and it had to be done soon, preferably before she thought better of it and changed her mind.

After Gene's visit the day before, Alex had seen what a state she had allowed this place to get herself into. The visit had certainly been emotional. Allowing Gene to see her battered and bruised in prison had felt incredibly degrading to Alex. As everyone knew, she prided herself on being in control at all times, but the visit with Gene had been filled with emotions over which she had no control. She felt glad that he had been able to make her smile again, if only briefly, but also felt bad that she had shouted at him and they had argued. It could almost be thought of as 'situation normal' had the circumstances been different.

But seeing Gene had, after some thought, been a positive thing. After coming away from the visit, Alex had completely broken down in Jill's arms and sobbed for quite some time until no more tears would come. Jill had comforted Alex and stayed with her until she had calmed herself. Eventually the afternoon lock up time had once again come upon them and Jill had to leave and return to her own cell as she had no work that afternoon. In the four hours of isolation that followed, Alex had cleared her head and thought deeply.

In between the heated arguing and updating Alex about her friends, Gene had spoken some very good words of advice.

"_Look Bolls, if she starts on you again you're gonna have to defend yerself, you can't just sit back and get beaten to a pulp on a weekly basis!_" had been Gene's words.

She knew full well that Gene thought with his fists first but Alex had to admit that he had a point. She was no fighter in the physical sense, yet she knew Kim Neary would have to be dealt with. In the four hours of lock up Alex had thought about Gene's words, and thought about Kim and her actions. She had seen the Neary girl around a lot prior to the attack. Her psychology kicked into action and she had tried her best to analyse what small amount of information she had been able to pick up from observing Kim Neary.

First, the girl was a pack animal. Most of the time she was with the gang who had stood by and watched as Kim had beaten and kicked Alex. From this, Alex had deduced that Kim was not pro-active. She was a follower not a leader and she had probably had to clear her attack on Alex with the gang's leader.

Secondly, if Kim was a follower then that meant she would respect authority in the same way as a pack animal. She would respect strength, whether she wanted to or not. Alex knew there was a 'pecking order' in prisons, she had known that before even being shot in 2008. Maybe, just maybe, she could put Kim's own personality traits to good use.

Alex had thought and thought about this and decided that she simply had to make a move. It would be risky and could easily backfire on her if she was wrong in her analysis, but if she didn't put and end to Kim's vendetta now then the girl would probably start to think of Alex as weak. If that happened then things could get very bad and Alex's worse case scenario was they she might even end up getting killed before she even got to trial. It had to be ended, and now.

Alex began to pace the cell again, simply wanting to get this over with. She was relieved to have so far had the cell to herself but she knew that probably wouldn't last long. Some extra clothes had been nice too. She had gone through the box of items Gene had sent in. Nothing fancy by any means. Extra clothes mostly including the red top she wore today and a couple of small bars of Cadbury's Dairy Milk for a little comfort - the calories be damned!

Alex looked up suddenly as the lock clunked itself undone. The door slowly opened with the rattle of a bunch of keys on a chain and a male officer opened the door.

"Association", he simply announced and moved on to the next cell. Alex took a deep breath. It was now or never.

* * *

Cautiously, Alex left her cell. She was always extra careful leaving her cell now in case anyone was lying in wait outside the door to attack her; thankfully, no attack came and Alex looked left and right, observing the prison officer making his rounds and unlocking each door as he went. As she looked, she saw prisoners emerging from their cells. Most were engaging in conversation with one-another.

It had to be done now, before common sense kicked in.

Alex buried any doubts she may have had and made her way along the landing to Kim's cell. She had seen Kim's cellmate make her way down the metal steps to the level below and felt confident that the Neary girl would now be alone. It took only moments for Alex to reach Kim's cell. She stopped by the doorway and briefly looked in.

Kim was stood facing the wall, looking up at the evening sunshine coming through the barred window as she brushed her hair. Alex took a silent step forward, mentally urging herself on. This pack animal had to be dealt with now and in terms she would understand - Kim Neary had to be taught that she was lower down the 'pecking order' than Alex Drake and there would only be one shot at this.

* * *

Kim heard nothing.

The dark haired girl dropped her hairbrush as her arm was grabbed from behind and forced painfully up behind her back. A hand clamped itself tightly over the girls mouth to prevent any scream and Kim was forced up against the cold wall. Alex Drake had Kim Neary exactly where she wanted her.

The Neary girl struggled for a few moments and then gave up knowing she couldn't get out of the painful situation.

"I'm going to take my hand away," Alex began, "and you're not going to scream, you hear me? You're not going to scream otherwise I'll make it hurt more."

Reluctantly the girl nodded frantically and Alex slowly and cautiously removed her hand from over Kim's mouth.

"Good." Alex responded.

"It's you innit?" Kim hissed, "bloody copper bitch!"

Alex pulled Kim's arm up a little further, increasing the discomfort.

"Ooow! Shit! Stop it! Bitch!"

Alex didn't like using violence like this but it was a technique for restraining suspects that she had been taught many times at the Met.

"I think you and I need a little chat, don't you Kim?" Alex began in a voice which told Kim they were going to have this chat whether she liked it or not.

"Wot about!?" Kim asked painfully as she began to stand on tip-toes to lessen the pain in her arm and shoulder.

"How's you brother, Kim?" Alex simply asked, "I hear you like telling everyone what a hard man he is?"

"He's worth ten of you copper!" Kim defended with venom in her pained voice.

"So everyone here is impressed by your tales of Simon's crime lord lifestyle are they?" Alex pondered out loud as she held Kim in her uncomfortable position, "Yes, the guns, the money, the drugs, the expensive BMW..."

"More cash than a bloody copper gets!" Kim fiercely defended.

"Oh and the boyfriends...the man on man sex in seedy hotel rooms...the fact that he was shot by his gay lover…" Alex continued, "tell me Kim, how does that go down with the other inmates?"

There was silence from Kim for several moments. Alex too was silent. She recalled how she had blasted her own colleagues for their prejudice but Alex saw that, just for now, that same prejudice might be her only chance of keeping the Neary girl off her back. She simply had to play along with the attitude of 1981.

"What's that, Kim? You've gone quiet all of a sudden!" Alex remarked, "Did you not tell everyone that we followed him undercover while he had sex with his boyfriend Marcus...oh and the S&M gear we found in their room, they had been very busy boys indeed!"

Alex felt Kim cease straining against her grip.

"Look what d'you want?" Kim finally began, her voice sounding defeated.

"I want you," Alex refused to release her grip, "off my back and out of my way."

Kim blew out an angry breath.

"Or just maybe..." Alex used her height advantage to lean slightly forward and talk directly into Kim's ear, "Maybe people here will learn that your beloved brother is something of a fairy?" Alex felt such a hypocrite having said that but she knew she had little option but to make it sound as realistic as possible.

"You wouldn't..." Kim tried to shake her head from where she stood pressed up against the wall.

"You kicked my head in a few days ago," Alex sounded like she meant business, "you tell me why I wouldn't do it?"

Kim said nothing but Alex could feel the girl's pulse racing in her wrist, she was agitated and scared. It was working. Alex clearly had the upper hand and Kim was surely now taking a few moments to weigh up her options.

"And you won't tell 'em?" Kim blurted suddenly.

"If you leave me alone and keep your friends off my back too," Alex explained, "then there's nothing to tell is there Kim?" Alex slowly released her grip on Kim enabling the girl to lower her arm to a less painful position behind her back.

"But!" Alex raised Kims arm again causing the girl to almost yelp, "one more ounce of trouble, one more attack, even one more insult...and I will destroy your brothers reputation."

Alex let Kim go completely. Kim spun around, holding her aching arm to her chest and rubbing her arm with her hand. She looked up at Alex, her face full of rage and spite...yet it was also a defeated look.

"Deal?" Alex asked, blocking Kim's exit from the cell.

Kim looked down, anger filling her face but seeing no other realistic choice.

"Deal", she muttered, "but this don't mean nuthin'. Yer still a good fer nuthin' bloody copper."

"Yes, yes, whatever…" Alex waved her hand to dismiss Kim's spiteful words, "Now run along...and remember what I said."

Kim glared at Alex momentarily and then headed for the cell door, eager to leave the presence of the D.I she had clearly misjudged. Once Kim had left, Alex let out a large sigh of relief. She knew she would have been in major trouble had an officer walked past and caught her threatening Kim. But Alex felt safe in the knowledge that her idea had worked. Kim was, as Alex had suspected, just like a pack animal. Alex had proven she was stronger and smarter, and in doing so, Kim had been put firmly in her place lower down the prison pecking order.

With that out of the way Alex decided that Kim's cell was still not the best place to be. She made her way to the cell door and turned to head back to her own cell. She needed a few minutes to calm herself and then she would go and find Jill if she wasn't already wandering around looking for her.

* * *

"Remind me not to cross you in a hurry!"

Alex looked stopped and looked round from where she was on the landing. Jill stood, arms folded and leaning against the wall outside Kim's cell.

"Saw you go in there when they let me out," Jill explained, "thought you were either going in there to sort her out or you'd suddenly acquired a death wish".

"Were you there the whole time?" Alex looked highly surprised as she looked to her friend. Jill nodded and smiled, she was clearly impressed.

"Nice one." Jill said approvingly, "Put that little madam right in her place. 'Bout time someone took her down a peg or two."

"Well, I just hope it works." Alex bit her lip, the cut now having healed a little more.

"I think you've given her food for thought!" Jill laughed, "C'mon, crossword?"

Alex nodded and began to walk with Jill to the association area.

"You seem a bit brighter than yesterday", Jill observed as they walked.

"Just followed a good friend's advice," Alex nodded, "something he said when he visited."

"Good friend, eh?" Jill raised an eyebrow and winked, "Good male friend?".

Alex let out a small laugh at Jill's obvious dig for further information.

"What?" Jill shrugged as she attempted to sound innocent.

"It's not like that!" Alex shook her head.

"Not like what..." Jill inferred.

"He's my D.C.I."

"Annnnd...?" Jill continued to prod for information as they walked down the metal steps.

"Alright, we did go for dinner on one occasion," Alex succumbed to Jill's prying, "but, well as you see, events took over."

"Seems he gives good advice, if your performance with the Neary girl was anything to go by!" Jill complemented her friend whilst nodding in approval as they reached the bottom of the steps.

"I think Gene would approve!" Alex smiled at the thought of something having finally gone right.

Jill pointed to a table with a discarded newspaper on it and indicated for Alex to follow. The two sat down and Jill flicked to the crossword page.

"I knew a DCI called Gene once. Well, I say 'knew', never actually spoke to the bloke." she remarked, "I did a brief stint in Manchester in '73. Looked out the station window one day and this D.C.I was having a blazing row with his D.I over something".

"Manchester?" Alex raised her eyebrows in interest and listened, "1973?"

"Yeah...anyway, he'd only gone and shoved his D.I in the boot of a Cortina would you believe it?!" Jill laughed, "Must be a Manchester thing I guess. Gawd what was his name?"

"Gene Hunt." Alex simply answered the question.

"That's it!" Jill clicked her fingers, "How'd you know that?".

"That's who came to see me yesterday." Alex simply explained, "He's part of the Met now...and was my D.C.I...until all this came along."

Jill's look suddenly changed to being serious.

"Alex", she began, "if you've got Gene Hunt backing you up, you're bloody lucky."

Alex sat back and sighed.

"I only wish it was that simple".

End chapter 6.

_(Author note - As with previous chapters I sometimes have problems with formatting when I upload fics to the site. Sometimes it loses gaps and bunches stuff all together, despite having been beta'd. If this happens with this chapter, please take that into account as I don't yet know what causes this website to do this during the upload)._

Many thanks to real life solicitor Skywise for advising me on what can be sent in for a remand prisoner.


	7. Happy New Year Alex

Evidence 7

Happy New Year Alex

It was a special night. A special night just about everywhere else in London, at least. Across the entire country, if not the entire world, parties were either ending, in full swing or about to get going. It depended on the time zone. Very shortly it would be England's turn to party for it was now 11:45pm, December 31st 1981. New Year's Eve.

"You still awake luv?" a voice enquired from within the dark cell.  
Lights out had been some time ago and the only light now entering the cell was a small smattering of moonlight from the small barred window. Everything else was in darkness.  
The voice was Jill's. The prison authorities had reorganised the cells in the last few days and reshuffled some of the inmates around to other cells. To Alex's relief she had been allocated Jill as her new cell mate.  
"Yeah, still awake", Alex replied.  
Alex lay on her bottom bunk, the meagre cover pulled tightly over her in an attempt to try and keep warm in the cold December night.  
The bunk was uncomfortable to say the very least and Alex had realised how much she, in hindsight, appreciated her own warm bed back in her flat.  
She shifted over onto her side to try and find a comfortable spot but the harsh metal bunk could always be felt under the less than adequate bedding.

Satisfied that she was as comfortable as she was going to get, Alex held something up to the incoming moonlight. She had been unable to sleep tonight, her mind racing, and this item was the reason why. It was a folded piece of paper headed with the logo of her solicitor.  
"You're reading that letter again aren't you?" Jill took a guess from where she lay on the top bunk.  
"Mmmm Hmmm", Alex confirmed.  
Her eyes scanned the print once again, taking in the details she already knew from having read and re-read the letter so many times since its arrival that morning.  
"Look on the bright side", Jill spoke up again in the darkness, "You've got something to focus on now, and then hopefully that's it and you're outta here."  
The letter from Jarvis solicitors had arrived that very morning bringing the news to Alex that her trial would be beginning in two weeks time.  
"It would have been nice of him to come and tell me in person", Alex sighed. "It's not really how I wanted to find out".  
"Yeah well", Jill also sighed. "Them lot, out there, have more important things to think of this time of year, buying presents, choosing the turkey, going to parties. We just get forgotten about."

Alex lowered the letter to the floor and let go of it. Reading the letter was letting the night chill in, and she was cold enough as it was. Once again, she readjusted the cover around herself - tonight was very cold indeed.

Alex cast her mind back over the last few days as she lay there. Christmas in prison had been difficult. It was Alex's first Christmas since arriving in this era and she would dearly have loved to have spent it with her good friends and colleagues. Instead a lot of the day had been spent locked up, more so than usual as several prison officers had 'mysteriously' called in sick on Christmas day and the prison had been left short staffed. The inmates had been allowed out in small groups for a basic Christmas dinner at least but after that it had been lock up once again. Alex had spent a lot of the day wondering what sort of a Christmas day CID were having. Were they living it up in Luigi's without her? Would they be sparing a thought for her? Or would there be some Christmas day drugs bust to pull them away from their turkey and beer? That, she had supposed, would be just typical.

Whatever they had done, Alex was reassured that she hadn't been forgotten about. The arrival of a Christmas card had seen to that. The card had contained a Christmas gift in the form of a small amount of cash for Alex to use in the prison to buy basic necessities and comforts. Prison rules allowed only a small amount of money to be sent in but Alex certainly appreciated it. The card had tried to sound upbeat and encouraging but Alex knew the senders were merely doing their best to raise her spirits.

_"Missin' you loads, luv Shaz"_

_"Hope you're back soon - Chris" (Poof!)_

_"Not forgotten. We're thinking of you - Ray"_

_"A bottle of Bolly is on ice for your return - Gene"._

Alex was reasonably sure that it was Ray's handwriting that had written "Poof!" over Chris's name. In addition to the card and cash was a small handwritten note, written separately so a certain person's own 'troops' wouldn't have read it.

_"Bolls.  
You know me, I'm no letter writer.  
I'd have you outta there in time for Christmas if I could, but the best I can do for now is bung you a few quid and hope it helps in some way.  
I know it's not much in the way of a prezzie - sorry.  
Keep it safe and mind no one gets their grubby paws on it._

_See you in the New Year - back in the station, yapping in my ear!  
I'm going to stop writing now as I'm sounding like a twat.  
Take care of yourself Bolls,_

_The Gene-Genie"_

And now it was New Year's Eve, just minutes from midnight. As London partied, Alex thought of her impending trial. It had come around very quickly. In Alex's own experience it usually took a lot longer for a case to come to trial, but that was 2008. Perhaps things worked differently in the legal system of 1981. She could only hope that things would go her way and the jury would see just how circumstantial the evidence against her was.

Alex felt a pang of dread within her as she thought of the so called 'evidence' against her.  
'Why, oh why, did I mark off the days on that damn calendar?!' she thought, 'it wouldn't have affected anything, had it been left blank'.  
Alex mentally cursed her own actions. Actions that now seemed to point to her being a disturbed and obsessed individual who had gone on to kill almost and entire family. Pinning all those newspaper clippings to the wall, marking off the days in a countdown to the bombing, her constant mentions of the Prices at work and even worse, her habit of regularly going to see Caroline. Alex knew how it looked. She could very easily appear to have an obsession with the Prices. Everything from calling round in a highly emotional state to say goodbye, when she thought she was dying, to asking Caroline to meet her for lunch so she could ask a very flimsy question about whether it was necessary to do a risk assessment when using an informant. Now, in hindsight, it all looked like she had been making any excuse to meet with Caroline.

Alex closed her eyes and remembered back to her final meeting with Caroline in the interview room at the station, the night before the bombing. She let out a slow depressed breath as she recalled Caroline's words, words which the prosecution case now seemed to echo...  
_"If you were physically sick I'd send you to a doctor"  
"You think I'm mad?"  
"Not mad just...confused. Obsessed even. I think you need help, Alex"._

That pretty much said it all. If even Caroline had come to believe it, then however would a jury perceive her? Her only hope was that the defence could convince the jury that, persuasive as the evidence may seem, there was no rock solid proof. That was a hope Alex felt she had to cling to. Another thing Alex had come to realise was that she was going to have to lie in court. She had never once told a lie in court before, it was against all that she stood for, yet she couldn't possibly admit her real reasons for being so interested in the Prices. Claiming to be from the year 2008 was completely out of the question and would almost certainly prove the prosecution's case that she was, indeed, mad.

Alex's attention was taken away from thoughts of her trial, by the sound of large bangs from the outside world. Small flickers of bright light began to shine momentarily into the cell.  
"Midnight", Jill's sleepy voice observed from above where Alex lay.  
The crackles and bangs from fireworks emanating from various parties in the area, escalated as the country celebrated.  
"Happy new year Alex", Jill chirped.  
The bunk made a creak and Alex felt a slight movement. She guessed that Jill had sat up in an attempt to try and see what poor view she might get of the fireworks. Alex remained where she was.  
"Happy new year", she whispered from where she lay on her side.  
She took hold of her pillow and buried her head beneath it in an attempt to block out the noise of the fireworks  
"1982", Alex muttered almost silently, "...make or break".

End Chapter 7.

Thanks again to spelling DCI - Heidi and real life solicitor Skywise for advice legal issues :)

_(Author note - As with previous chapters I sometimes have problems with formatting when I upload fics to this website. Sometimes it loses gaps and bunches stuff all together, despite having been beta'd. If this happens with this chapter, please take that into account as I don't yet know what causes this website to do this during the upload)._


	8. The Trial: Opening Statements

Evidence 8

The Trial - Opening Statements

"What we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is a very simple case. It is indeed a tragic case, but one fuelled by obsession - an inexplicable and eventually deadly obsession - which finally led to the horrific murders of two of this country's finest legal minds.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it is our intention to prove to you that this supposedly respectable Metropolitan Police officer is responsible for masterminding the murders of both Timothy and Caroline Price, as well as the attempted murder of their young daughter Alexandra and finally the possession of cocaine, which was planted on this poor family as part of the defendants twisted obsession.

We will show that the defendant planned this outrage over the course of several months before the fateful day of October 10th when the Prices died in a horrendous car bombing which, by the grace of God, their daughter only survived by having exited the vehicle to retrieve a balloon she had brought with her.

In the prosecution of this case, we will also endeavour to demonstrate how the defendant, contrary to how she may have appeared, is, in fact not an upstanding officer within the police force - but rather a manipulative schemer who has used her skills in psychology to dupe all those around her, with the intention of covering her tracks.  
It is the prosecution's belief that what we have here is a seriously disturbed, remorseless and dangerous individual who must be locked away before she can bring any further harm to any more families...  
This, ladies and gentlemen is what the prosecution shall set out to prove".

Alex sat in the dock, looking straight ahead and listening as the prosecution stated its case.  
The courtroom looked imposing with it's dark wood and robed officials. An air of seriousness hung over the proceedings as the prosecution had spelled out its case to all those present.  
In the beginning, Alex felt distanced from the words, as if they had been talking about someone else. However, the sharply worded descriptions used by the prosecution had felt like shards of glass, cutting Alex to the core.

She knew she couldn't shout out, couldn't stand up and counter the accusations by arguing back that it was all untrue and, as Gene would put it, "Bollocks!"  
Her time would come to argue her case, Alex knew this well, yet she still found it both hard and hurtful to sit in silence and listen as she was labelled a monster by the prosecution.  
Alex had tried her best to appear neutral during the prosecutions opening statement.  
She knew the jury were looking at her as the descriptions and accusations had been spoken.  
She knew not to sit there shaking her head. She'd always felt suspicious of defendants who reacted that way, as if they were being cocky and shrugging off the charges.  
So she had sat in the dock and simply not reacted, not given the jury any chance to form an incorrect first impression.

Alex had observed the jury and had wondered what kind of people they were, how they might consider the allegations and how they might judge her - especially on these important first impressions. Some of the jury had watched the prosecution intently as the case had been spelt out, others had simply stared at Alex for most of the speech.

The jury looked like a mixed bag from all walks of society. Amongst them sat an older woman in a cardigan who looked like she might be the stereotypical librarian type, a young man in his early twenties who had clearly never been in court and looked a little nervous, a middle aged Indian man in a turban who looked very serious and several others of varying ages and descriptions, all of whom stared hard at Alex intermittently.

The butterflies had been there all morning. Jill had tried her best to offer words of encouragement to Alex but, despite it being appreciated, it hadn't made much of a difference. As the trial had approached Alex had felt more and more tense knowing that a major turning point, over which she had absolutely no control, was heading towards her and that she had no idea which way it was going to go.

There was a chance that Jill was right - she had spent the previous evening reassuring Alex that this could well be the end of things, that if the jury were reasonable, they would not be convinced at all by the circumstantial evidence. If that was the case, and the jury were left with niggling doubts, then Alex should go free. Jill had indeed made a very good point, but that had not prevented Alex from lying awake almost all night in her cell.  
At the very most she guessed that she had eventually had no more than two maybe three hours sleep. She had no idea what time she had eventually fallen asleep but the entire night had been filled with worry, nerves and questions of 'what if...?' that had been rolling around in her mind.  
Finally the morning had come and it had been time to go. Jill had offered some final words of encouragement and given her friend a huge hug before an officer had informed Alex that it was time to leave for the court.

As she was led from the prison wing that had been her reluctant home for so many months Alex realised her world had, albeit temporarily, suddenly become larger for the first time in far too long. After walking down several corridors, her arm being held firmly by the silent officer at all times, they made it to an outside area where a small white lorry waited.  
Alex soon found herself once again handcuffed and was directed into the prison transport lorry with two other inmates who were also making court appearances.  
Once onboard Alex was directed into a small compartment, with just a small seat to sit on with no other room at all, and was soon locked in for the journey to court.  
She had been in court more times than she cared to remember in her career, but it had never been in the dock.

Once at the court Alex was uncuffed and locked up once again, this time in the court holding cells.  
There had only been time for a very quick last minute chat with Jarvis in the cells before he had needed to leave and prepare for the case to begin.  
Shortly afterwards Alex had been brought up into the court room and the trial had, after all these months, finally begun.  
Alex only hoped Jarvis could make as effective an opening statement as the prosecution had.  
She ceased her thoughts as Jarvis, upon direction of the judge, got to his feet and began to address the court.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to talk about evidence.  
As I am sure you are aware evidence is a crucial part of any police investigation and resultant court case, no matter how large or small the alleged offence.  
In this case the alleged offence is huge...the murders not just of two well respected lawyers, but two loving parents.

However the defence intends to highlight to the jury that, despicable as this crime indeed was, there is absolutely no concrete evidence - prints, forensics, financial - linking this crime to the accused.

Yes the prosecution will indeed present you with evidence, but the defence will point out to you time and time again ladies and gentlemen, that this so called evidence is all entirely circumstantial.

Ladies and gentlemen it is the defence's intention to demonstrate to you that the accused is merely an innocent party who's life has been all but destroyed by these extremely serious allegations - That the accused is an honourable and well respected officer within the Metropolitan police force who simply, and unknowingly, made the mistake of being in the wrong place at the wrong time on several occasions.

It is the defence's intention to show the court that the accused is an innocent woman.  
The accused is indeed responsible for a great many things.  
As a highly valued Detective Inspector, the accused is responsible for having solved a great many serious crimes and has therefore helped keep our streets safe.  
She is not however responsible for any murders, or the planning of any murders.  
This is what we intend to show to you."

End chapter 8

...The case will continue...

_Massive, massive thanks to real life solicitor Skywise for answering my many questions on court procedures etc :)_

_Also thanks to my spelling DCI - Heidi :)_

_(Author note - As with previous chapters I sometimes have problems with formatting when I upload fics to this website. Sometimes this site loses gaps, bunches stuff all together and generally messes with the layout, despite having been beta'd. If this happens with this chapter, please take that into account as I don't yet know what causes this website to do this during the upload)._


	9. The Trial: First Witness Evan White

**Evidence 9**

**First witness - Mr Evan White**

Evan White had never once needed to steel his nerves before a court appearance until today.

He looked at his watch. It was indeed getting very late, or more accurately early as midnight had passed some time ago.

He had several cases coming up and had spent most of the night reading through paperwork relating to them. A case defending a bank worker accused of fraud, a case defending a chap accused of assault at a football match, another involving a car theft and one defence against a charge of arson. It was the usual workload, nothing at all out of the ordinary.

Since the deaths of Tim and Caroline, word of his association with them had brought a lot of business Evan's way. Evan certainly never intended to cash in on the Prices' deaths but there were people out there who needed defending and, upon the deaths of Tim and Caroline, people accused of crimes and needing help had come to their former right hand man - Evan White.

Evan's own law firm had started well and appeared to be flourishing. Of this Evan was very proud because it meant that he was the lawyer he always knew he could be, but aside from that, it meant he could also provide a secure future for Alexandra - His 'Little Alex' as he often called her now.

Evan had now sat here for several hours. He had read through paperwork and statements relating to his upcoming cases but, if he was honest with himself, he hadn't taken any of it in.

He had simply gone over the statements to occupy himself, to take his attention from a far more imposing matter. He knew the football fan he was defending was as guilty as sin, but he had sat at his desk in his study looking at the paperwork anyway. His eyes had followed the sentences written before him but he had absorbed none of it. Evan had simply been going through the motions.

He had poured whiskeys from a crystal decanter and into a glass until at least 2am.

He hadn't been drunk, but it had been enough to silence his conscience. His conscience had been making itself known more and more frequently as the trial approached. It wasn't often Evan was called as a witness rather than in his professional role, but this was indeed one of those rare occasions. But this case wasn't just rare, it was unique in Evan's experience. He would be going into the court today in full possession of facts that he knew could very possibly clear the accused...Yet he could not allow himself to utter a word of this.

Evan had been shocked when, months back, he had heard news from the police that someone had been arrested for the Price murders. Evan had been at his office when the police had come by and asked to speak with him. His initial thoughts were that the elusive Arthur Layton had been recaptured and that perhaps, just perhaps, some forensic trace had been found to link Layton to the bomb. That would, in Evan's view, be a satisfactory outcome to this whole sorry affair.

As Evan had found out, that was not to be. He would never forget his reaction when he had been told what had actually transpired and who had really been arrested. He had sat back in his chair as if a great force had shoved him backwards, clasped a hand over his mouth in horror and uttered "Oh...God..."

And now here he was, his part in the trial just hours away. Evan had thought and thought, in fact he had done nothing but think ever since he had been informed of Alex Drake's arrest.

"I have to do the right thing", Evan muttered as he picked up the glass and swirled around the last drop of whiskey.

He rubbed his tired eyes as he thought hard.

"What is the right thing though?" He directed his question to a small framed photograph on his desk. It was a school photograph of his 'Little Alex'. She had bravely gone back to school some weeks after the bombing and had brought the annual school photograph home last week. Evan had kept the small photo on his desk.

Finally he knocked back the last drop of whiskey. He knew what he had to do. When it came down to it, there was only one option. This whole thing was a balancing act and in the very middle of it was Evan's knowledge of Tim Price's video confession. On the one hand Evan knew that if he revealed it, it might very well help get Alex Drake off. He knew she was innocent and that was what pained Evan so much. When he had heard of her arrest Evan had been devastated and had, for once, not known what to do.

"Why couldn't it have been someone else?" Evan again muttered at his desk.

He knew there were some highly corrupt police officers out there, some with real blood on their hands. Had one of them been arrested for the Price murders instead then maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't have felt so bad.

But Alex Drake? Evan was torn. He had never hidden his affections for her since his slightly bizarre first encounter with her. And the more they crossed paths the more he fancied her, even during his affair with Caroline he had felt drawn to this DI. He had even thought he might be in with a chance, that she was pretty much his. A nice evening spent with her in her flat, music playing in the background, drinks for both of them and talks of meeting in past lives. All so romantic...

It had all gone so well until she had let slip that silly comment about DCI Gene Hunt.

That had killed the moment stone dead.

But despite Evan's feelings towards Alex, he also knew she was a good and honest police officer and a genuinely nice person. He knew she didn't deserve this. And therein lay Evan's dilemma and the reason for his pangs of conscience. In just a few hours time Evan was to be called as a witness - for the prosecution.

He knew that if he didn't reveal the knowledge of Tim Price's VHS confession then his words could lead to a major miscarriage of justice and he could well be responsible for seeing Alex Drake sent down for life for a crime she didn't commit.

Just the very thought of that made Evan feel physically sick. But if he did reveal knowledge of the VHS tape he would, in mere seconds, destroy his 'Little Alex' all over again.

Evan sighed. This was beyond difficult: it was the hardest choice he had ever had to make.

'Little Alex' had gone through so much in recent months and Evan was so proud of her.

She was simply the very best thing in his world and always would be. She had coped admirably given that she had actually witnessed the deaths of her parents first hand.

There had, indeed, been many nights of tears but Evan had done his absolute best to comfort her and reassure her that he would always be there for her, looking out for her and taking care of her.

The worst parts were the times when 'Little Alex' would ask Evan why her mummy and daddy died and who did it. These were questions Evan felt he would never ever be able to bring himself to answer, despite his feeble promise to himself that he would indeed tell one day tell her when she was older - but that was a long time off.

Evan loved his 'Little Alex' and knew he could never do anything which would harm her.

As a result, he was going to have to do something very hard in just a few hours...after that Evan would just have to find a way to live with himself. His final choice was simple...who's world would Evan destroy? In the end, Evan's decision was easy...It wasn't going to be Alex Price.

* * *

Evan stood as he awaited the beginning of the questioning.

He was familiar with this court room as he had been in it with clients many times before.

He even knew several members of both the prosecution and defence teams on a professional level. Alex's lawyer Jarvis was a highly competent man and Evan allowed himself to take some comfort in the knowledge that someone that good was defending her. Evan was aware of the prosecution lawyer Alison Weeks. In this male dominated profession Evan had a suspicion that Alison was shaping up to become, over the next few years, the next Caroline Price - maybe even more successful.

He had heard many things about this lawyer and had defended a case against her just once.

On that occasion Evan had lost and his client had been found guilty of robbing a petrol station.

Evan had to admit he admired Alison. She was a rising star in the profession and was certainly a hot topic between lawyers in the wine bars after court. Today, however, Evan wished Alison was anywhere but here. She was good, damn good, and that was a problem.

There was one person in the court Evan didn't want to look at but finally it got the better of him.

He cast his eyes to one side and saw her - sat in the dock, a blue blouse, the white jacket and the same dark curls that he always remembered. As he observed it dawned on him that this was the first time he had seen Alex Drake since the day of the car bombing when he had taken 'Little Alex' home with him after DCI Hunt had destroyed the VHS confession.

He suddenly realised that eye contact that had been established and glanced away, down at the floor. He couldn't look her in the eye just now, not when his words were most likely about to condemn her. But it was all for the sake of his 'Little Alex', he had to put her first in this world now, above all others.

"Mister White".

Evan's thoughts ceased as he heard Alison Weeks's voice begin speaking to him.

She stood facing him, looking professional as always.

"Can you please tell the court how you came to know the defendant? Just tell us exactly what you told the police in your statement".

Evan took in a deep breath and cast his mind back, "It was several months ago, I don't recall the exact date, I was leaving the office to get some lunch when I encountered this young woman, DI Drake...the defendant".

Alison nodded as she listened.

"I see", she appeared to be running over details in her mind, "And when you say 'the office', exactly what office do you refer?"

"That would be the offices of Tim and Caroline Price's legal firm, where I worked at the time in question", Evan answered quite truthfully.

"According to your statement Mister White you struck up a conversation with the defendant as you left the Prices' offices", Alison continued to dig, "Did the defendant explain why she had come to the offices?"

Evan swallowed hard. The questions were perfectly simple but he knew Alison would inevitably be trying to portray Alex in a bad light.

"She told me she stopped by to see Caroline".

"Caroline Price?" Alison asked, wishing to establish without question who Alex had been interested in seeing that day.

"Yes Caroline Price", Evan nodded.

"And did she tell you why she needed to see Caroline Price?" Alison continued.

"She said she was looking for some reassurance", Evan recalled. He decided to leave out the bit about Alex telling him he 'was' gorgeous. He would keep the oddly worded complement to himself, just as he had when the police had interviewed him after Alex's arrest.

"Reassurance for what?", Alison again quizzed.

"I honestly don't know", Evan again truthfully answered, "I didn't wish to pry. It was none of my business, I just assumed she had an appointment and that was why she was there".

Alison turned from Evan momentarily, "The prosecution would like to point out at this time that there is no record of the defendant having an appointment to see Caroline Price that day".

There was silence as words were jotted down and Alison took a moment in thought before moving on to her next line of questioning.

"Mister White, I would now like to move the questioning on to events of several days after you met the defendant".

Evan nodded in understanding "Mister White, is it correct that you met with the defendant in the trattoria named Luigi's just days after first meeting her?", Alison enquired from where she stood.

"Yes that is correct", Evan answered.

"And what did you believe the nature of this encounter to be Mister White?", Alison's digging continued.

"I errr...", Evan stumbled his words slightly, "At the time, I thought it might have been a date".

Evan felt slightly embarrassed. His personal life had never been a subject for questioning in court until today, but he knew worse was yet to come with personal questions.

"So you came to the Luigi's trattoria thinking you were going on a date, that your luck was in?", Alison elaborated her train of thought, "And how did you discover it wasn't a date?".

"It transpired that Alex, I mean the defendant, merely wanted to run some details about a police investigation past me", Evan recalled, again truthfully.

"For the record", Alison explained to the court, "the police investigation the witness refers to is the investigation into the murder of a Mister Martin Kennedy, a security guard for the Edgehampton weapons research base".

Alison wasted no time before continuing her questioning of Evan.

"Isn't it odd to simply run details of a police investigation past someone unconnected to the case in, of all places, a restaurant, Mister White?"

"I think DI Drake just wanted to check out a couple of facts off the record", Evan was quick to defend, "a phone number found on the body".

"And could you please tell the court who's telephone number that was Mister White?".

Evan didn't want to answer but knew he had to. He knew the only answer he could give was exactly the answer Alison wanted.

"Tim and Caroline Price's home number", Evan replied.

"Tim and Caroline Price yet again", Alison commentated, "their private home telephone number..."

Evan looked down momentarily.

The questioning had barely begun and already he felt as if he were dropping Alex further and further in it.

"Were the Prices discussed at this encounter, Mister White?"

"There was a short discussion", Evan admitted, "I simply explained that Tim and Caroline were not at all as the newspapers would have people believe - that they were real people just like anybody else".

"And was there a suggestion that the defendant should visit the Price house?" Alison continued.

"Just so Alex could ask Caroline about this Kennedy chap", Evan tried to play down any possible negativity from Alison's question, "I thought it would make sense for her to ask Caroline herself so I suggested she call round at a time I was there and she could see that Caroline was really nothing to fear".

There was a pause as Alison seemed to consider the wording of her next question.

Evan's heart rate increased as Alison was handed something by a member of her team.

He recognised what it was and knew what was coming.

"The jury are now being shown evidence in the form of a series of A4 black and white photographs", Alison explained, "Mister White can you confirm for the court that you are the man depicted in these photographs?"

Evan was both horrified and deeply embarrassed.

He knew the photographs were inevitably going to be used in evidence.

Now the moment had come it felt incredibly humiliating, as the jury of strangers all looked at the photographs of Evan and Caroline in various compromising positions.

The photographs left those looking at them in absolutely no doubt as to what was going on.

"That is me, yes", Evan solemnly replied, his humiliation preventing him from making eye contact with Alison or anybody else.

"Is it correct to state that, at the time these photographs were taken, you were in the midst of pursuing an affair with Caroline Price?"

Evan looked down, uncomfortable with discussing the subject in front of all these people.

He felt ashamed at having his secret exposed in court. Yet at the same time he felt remorse that these photographs were being dragged out yet again when, this time, Caroline would not be here to defend herself. He knew it was a key part of the trial and evidence had to be shown, but he couldn't help feeling that this was being disrespectful towards Caroline's memory.

In Evan's opinion, the best place for these photographs was the dustbin.

"Mister White?" Alison prompted, breaking Evan from his thoughts.

"There was a brief affair, yes", Evan admitted, "but it was brief! It was just something that happened, it wasn't planned".

"You have no need to justify your actions Mister White", Alison reassured Evan on the clearly awkward matter, "We simply aim to establish the facts".

Evan nodded. He knew this to be true as he did the same job as Alison and had himself asked people uncomfortable questions in court.

But being the one being questioned was both different and new to Evan.

The affair with Caroline may have ended some time before the car bombing but Evan had always remained fond of Caroline and therefore now felt protective toward her memory.

"Is it true, Mister White, that Caroline Price was the victim of an attempted blackmail plot by this Martin Kennedy chap regarding these photographs?" Alison moved the subject along.

"Yes, that is true", Evan agreed, "He had visited Caroline at some point, demanded two thousand pounds for the photographs and threatened that if he didn't get what he wanted he would send the photographs to Tim...to Mister Price".

"Did he get what he wanted?", Alison asked.

"No", Evan shook his head, "No, and after Martin Kennedy was found dead the photographs were discovered by the police investigating his death".

"I see", Alison sounded like she was heading down a well planned path, "And what happened to the photographs then Mister White?".

"Well, they were taken as evidence", Evan began, "and then they were kindly returned to Caroline to do with as she wished".

"Returned by whom exactly?", Alison continued.

Evan paused. He didn't want to answer.

"DI Drake", Evan stated and looked briefly toward Alex.

"DI Drake...", Alison repeated, "So DI Drake had access to and was the last person to be in possession of these revealing photographs prior to them being returned to Mrs Price?".

"So Caroline told me, yes", Evan answered.

"Mister White when your affair with Caroline Price was discovered you were interviewed as part of the police investigation into Mister Kennedy's death. How did DI Drake react to the affair?"

Evan again looked briefly towards Alex in the dock. He found it very hard to read her.

She was looking his way and seemed to be listening intently but Evan couldn't make out any obvious reaction to his words.

Part of him wished he could tell how his words were affecting Alex. If it was up to him he would have played no part in these proceedings as he knew full well Alex was innocent.

That knowledge was hurting Evan terribly. Defending the innocent was his job, his calling, yet here he was - his words being spun to convince a jury to convict Alex of a crime she had nothing to do with.

Every fibre of Evan's being told him this was wrong, but if he followed his instinct he would cause even more hurt and pain to his 'Little Alex''. He couldn't possibly let that happen.

Just this once, Evan had to go against his instinct and his sense of what was right...and doing so felt truly awful.

"She reacted angrily", Evan finally answered the question, "asked why I hadn't told her about the affair, and if Caroline had any other affairs".

"Did you find this an odd question to be asked?", Alison probed, "it hardly seems relevant to tracking down this Mister Kennedy's killer".

"Well...A little unusual", Evan agreed, "but I suppose morally we were in the wrong so I assumed that's why Alex was angry. Alex and I had been getting to know each other recently too so she may have felt a little cheated".

"Mister White, your statement indicates that you spoke with the defendant outside the police station shortly after you were interviewed about the photographs".

"Yes I did have a brief chat with Alex", Evan confirmed.

"And did she make any threats towards you Mister White?"

"Threats?" Evan was confused.

"Reading from your statement Mister White, the accused is alleged to have said to you...What would you do if your God daughter found out?".

Evan's heart skipped a beat at being reminded of what Alex had said.

"I didn't perceive that as a threat, more an off the cuff remark in the heat of the moment", Evan wished he hadn't been quite so honest with the police when he had been quizzed after Alex's arrest.

"I see", Alison remarked.

Again there was a pause as Alison prepared to move her questioning along.

"I would now like to draw Mister White's attention to the investigation into the theft of BBC Children in Need money which was being investigated by the defendant's CID branch".

Evan nodded in understanding of the facts. He recalled it well, scoring a point over DCI Hunt.

"I understand that you were contacted concerning use of unauthorised methods of policing, namely the holding without caution of a Mister Gill Hollis and the use of physical force during interrogation".

"I was contacted yes", Evan agreed.

"Who contacted you?"

"DI Drake", Evan answered truthfully, "she was concerned, that's all and she was in the right I might add".

"Despite there being a list of regularly used solicitors in the station, DI Drake specifically called you?"

"Yes", Evan nodded, there was nothing wrong with that.

"And this resulted in Gill Hollis being represented by whom exactly?"

"Caroline Price", Evan recalled, "Caroline came to the station and we took Gill out of custody".

Another pause came before the subject moved along again.

"Moving along to the day of October 10th 1981, the day of the car bombing. Is it correct to say that the defendant, along with a DCI Gene Hunt, came to court in search of the Prices?"

"That's right", Evan agreed, "I told them I had resigned and that I was no longer anything to do with them".

"How did the defendant seem to you, Mister White?"

"She was frantic, desperate to find them", Evan again replied truthfully, "she was asking if I knew where they were".

"And you told both the defendant and DCI Hunt where the Prices had gone?"

"Yes I did", Evan explained, "It seemed important. Alex seemed alarmed, flustered".

"And can you confirm to the court Mister White that you owned the blue W reg Ford Escort that the Prices so tragically died in?".

"I did", Evan answered solemnly, "I dropped it off outside their house that morning and put the keys through the letterbox".

"The Ford Escorts keys were put through the letterbox of the Prices' house", Alison emphasised. "This will indeed prove relevant later on".

Alison took a breath and began her final line of questioning.

"Finally Mister White, you were present when the car exploded. Could you please tell the court how the defendant reacted?"

"It was awful. As DCI Hunt made his way towards Tim and Caroline's daughter, DI Drake sank to her knees and screamed. It was as if everything in her world had just shattered, awful".

"Thank you, Mister White", Alison finally finished, "No more questions from the prosecution".

With that Alison sat back down.

The judge looked from the prosecution to the defence.

"Are there any questions from the defence for this witness?", he asked in a commanding voice.

Jarvis got to his feet. He was of a similar age to Evan, maybe a year or so older with neat dark brown hair and smart glasses.

"Yes, Your Honour", Jarvis replied with a firm nod.

Jarvis took a moment in thought before he began his question.

""Mister White", he finally began, "during the entire time that you have known the defendant, did you ever see anything that gave you cause to believe that she could have a grudge or obsession with the Price family?"

Evan was relieved. He had unwillingly done his damage, now it was his chance to limit the damage. He shook his head in response to Jarvis's question.

"No never. If anything, I always thought Alex admired and respected Caroline as a fellow female in a male dominated profession".

"So you never saw anything that gave you cause for concern, Mister White?" Jarvis continued.

"No, nothing", Evan was firm.

"And moving slightly further along, did you ever witness any behaviour from the defendant that gave you reason to believe she wished the Price family any harm?".

"Again no", Evan's reply was steadfast, "No, she looked up to Caroline".

"Finally, Mister White", Jarvis felt confident with his questioning, "Did Tim or Caroline Price ever say anything to you to indicate that they themselves felt in any way threatened by the defendant?"

"No", Evan answered, "Caroline mentioned a couple of encounters where she said Alex seemed emotional, upset, but she never said anything about feeling threatened".

"And as far as the defence is aware", Jarvis concluded, "calling round to see a friend when feeling upset is not yet a crime. No more questions, Your Honour".

* * *

Alex remained seated as Evan was dismissed from the witness box.

In her thoughts she digested Evan's words and answers, all the time feeling mixed emotions.

Evan was someone Alex had trusted and looked up to her entire life and hearing his descriptions of her words and actions had been difficult. She knew he had said nothing but the truth but it was still hard to deal with the fact that so much of Evan's own testimony was to be used against her.

She knew this wasn't her Evan as such, her Evan was in 2008 with Molly.

But this Evan, here in 1981, was the Evan who would raise her younger self and help shape her into the woman she would become. Alex knew that Evan was protecting her younger self in the way he had testified, he always protected her and was always there for her.

In the same situation Alex knew she would do exactly the same for Molly.

Evan couldn't possibly know that his 'Little Alex' and this DI were the same person so of course he would prioritise protecting his 'family'.

As a result no matter how negative Evan's words would be spun into looking, Alex felt unable to bear Evan any ill will.

As she had listened to the testimony Alex had partly blamed herself for how bad her actions could look.

She never thought about it at the time because a double murder charge was the very last thing Alex had expected to happen to her.

She had confidently expected to be back with Molly by now, probably in hospital, but back with her daughter no less. But it had all gone so horrendously wrong on October 10th 1981.

Alex had wished many times that she had said or done things differently - Not badgering Caroline, not calling at the Price house and, most importantly, not filling her wall with all those clippings about the Prices and that damned calendar.

She didn't like the way these proceedings were going at all and the case was only one witness in.

It wouldn't be long until the second witness would be called by the prosecution.

Alex knew the next witness would be an unwilling participant in these proceedings but he would have no choice.

It would soon be time for DS Ray Carling to take to the witness box.

End Chapter 9...the Trail will continue...

(Huge thanks to Heidi for beta-ing and for solicitor Skywise for letting me pick her legal brains!)

_(Author note - As with previous chapters I sometimes have problems with formatting when I upload fics to this website. Sometimes this site loses gaps, bunches stuff all together and generally messes with the layout, despite having been beta'd. If this happens with this chapter, please take that into account as I don't yet know what causes this website to do this during the upload)._

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	10. The Trial: 2nd Witness DS Ray Carling

**Evidence 10**

**The Trial: Second witness - DS Ray Carling**

Ray Carling was angry.

This in itself was not an unusual occurrence, but today of all days Ray Carling was definitely 'in a mood'.

He had paced up and down the corridors and smoked numerous cigarettes as he waited to be called into the court room.

When Ray had heard he was being called as a witness by, of all sides, the prosecution, he had been enraged.

The Guv's CID team meant everything to Ray. It was as if they were a family unit and Ray hated the very thought of having to give evidence - albeit reluctantly - against one of their own.

Ray had stormed into CID, the day the letter of summons had arrived, and protested to Gene.

He knew there was nothing the Guv could do about it, but he wanted Gene to see just how angry he was about this sudden turn of events.

Eventually, after much protesting and swearing from Ray**, **Gene had finally calmed his detective sergeant

His words of advice had been that Ray should simply say what he saw, because "Bollykecks has done nothing wrong".

Ray himself had thought and thought and couldn't remember witnessing anything incriminating relating to the car bombing.

His words to Gene were that it was all "a stitch up" and, with the Scarman report fresh in peoples minds, the powers that be just wanted to pin a big crime on a good copper - a PR demonstration of the police routing out so called 'corruption' within the ranks.

Ray was having none of it.

DI Drake was part of the Guv's team and therefore part of Rays close circle of friends.

Admittedly he did believe Alex's psychology to be nothing more than "twaddle" but she got results and that was all that mattered.

It would seem however that the court was well aware of Ray's reluctance to testify against his friend and colleague. He had been labelled a 'hostile witness' . This meant that he had been called by the prosecution to testify against Alex but it was very much against his will.

'I'll show you a hostile bloody witness alright' he thought to himself.

* * *

"Detective Sergeant Carling".

Ray focused his attention onto Alison, the prosecution's barrister..

He didn't like the look of her one bit. She was too business like in his opinion, cold, detached, unemotional.

'Another bloody Caroline Price', Ray thought in disdain.

"If I can cast your mind back to the investigation into the murder of Mister Martin Kennedy...", it had begun, "Is it correct that you were present in the interview room when solicitor Mister Evan White was being quizzed by DCI Hunt and DI Drake, regarding the intimate photographs of himself and Mrs Caroline Price?"

"Yeah I was there", Ray nodded, "What of it?"

"How did DI Drake seem to you Sergeant Carling?"

'Bloody overpaid bitch, making something of nothing', Ray again thought to himself as he looked at Alison.

"She was… I dunno...annoyed", Ray recalled.

"Annoyed?" Alison prompted Ray to elaborate.

"Yeah well, it's not a nice thing to do is it?" Ray shrugged. "Just because Tim Price was away, she gets it on with the next in line".

"Did DI Drake ask Mister White and I quote", Alison paused. "'Why didn't you tell me about it?' and 'Has she had other affairs?'".

"I dunno", Ray was flustered as he carefully tried not to lie but also tried not to say anything potentially incriminating, "she might have done".

"Can you be more precise please, Sergeant?" Alison urged.

"Look, I was stood at the back of the room", Ray protested, "I couldn't hear it all that clearly".

"Did you hear DI Drake ask Mister Evan White those two questions DS Carling?" Alison urged him again, slightly more forcefully this time.

Ray blew out a deep breath.

"Yes, alright, yes", he said angrily, "but I thought she was annoyed because she had a thing for that Evan, that's all. Not what anyone else is twisting it to mean!"

"Thank you DS Carling", Alison said as she finally got her answer, "I do appreciate how difficult this must be for you".

'You haven't got a bloody clue luv!' Ray thought in response.

Ray's anger was increasing by the moment as he stood in the witness box.

His fists were clenched by his side and he very much wanted to hit or kick some inanimate object right now.

He glanced momentarily over to Alex in the dock.

He hadn't seen her at all since her arrest. The only person who had seen her was Gene and the Superintendent had made his displeasure at that visit very much known.

Ray's relief was immense when Alex cast him a small reassuring smile, as if urging him to be calm and take it all in his stride.

That simple act meant a lot to Ray.

"Now if I can move along DS Carling, to the day of October 9th 1981", Alison's questions began again, "I understand that you were present when the defendant is alleged to have received a telephone call from an informant warning of the impending car bomb that killed Mister and Mrs Price?".

"I was and she did. The call came in and DI Drake got straight to work on investigating it", Ray explained.

"And do you know the identity of this informant DS Carling?" Alison enquired.

"She said it was private", Ray continued with a shrug, "nothing wrong with that. Could have been anonymous even, not everybody wants to give their details to us coppers y'know!".

"And on the subject of telephone calls Detective Sergeant", Alison carried on, "is it correct that you took a telephone call in CID on October 10th from a person whom you identified as another informant, or possibly even the same one, asking to speak to the defendant?".

"I did yeah", Ray nodded.

"And who was _this_ caller, exactly. DS Carling?" Alison sounded confident in her questioning.

Ray's anger was rising within him again. He knew this woman was trying to establish possible links where there were none.

"DS Carling, who was the caller?" Alison asked the question again.

"Arthur Layton", Ray finally huffed.

"The caller asking for the defendant, on the day of the car bombing, was the drug lord, Arthur Layton who had, some weeks earlier, been arrested by the defendant", Alison explained to the court,. "However, on October 10th, he was released from prison on bail and _seems_ to have decided to call the officer who arrested him".

Ray was biting his lip hard. There were several names he wanted to call Alison right now but he dare not in a court of law.

"DS Carling, did the defendant make any visits to a prisoner in Wormwood Scrubs, in the days prior to the car bombing?" Alison continued.

Ray wished she would just shut up.

"Yes she did", he answered.

"And whom did she visit DS Carling?"

Ray sighed loudly, letting his annoyance show.

"Arthur Layton", he simply stated. There was no point trying to deny knowledge of the visit as the prison records would clearly show her as visiting Layton.

"She visited Arthur Layton", Alison said more to the court than to Ray, "and tell me DS Carling, did she visit him alone?"

"I think so, I dunno. I wasn't there I only saw her leave CID alone", Ray protested. "The second time she went with the Guv, not alone!"

Another pause followed. Alison seemed to enjoy adding these pauses before moving on, as if giving the jury, witness and defendant time to think over what had been said.

"You were present, were you not, at the arrest of both Mister and Mrs Price for possession of narcotics?"

"I was", Ray agreed. That much he couldn't deny.

"May I ask how yourself and the defendant gained access to the Prices house?"

Ray bit his lip momentarily. He hated hesitating, it was something he rarely did but he knew how bad what he was about to say could sound.

"We let ourselves in with the spare key", Ray finally answered, truthfully.

"With the spare key", Alison repeated, "and of both yourself and the defendant, which of you knew where the key was?"

Ray hesitated yet again. This really was becoming the stitch up job he had feared all along.

"DS Carling?" Alison said, urging her witness to speak the answer she sought.

"DI Drake", Ray said with immense reluctance in his voice, "she found it under a garden ornament".

Ray looked down. He felt ashamed at what he had just said yet he knew he had, unfortunately, had no choice in the matter.

"And how did she know it was there DS Carling?" Alison again continued.

"I don't know!" Ray was now actually sounding angry. "All sorts of people hide a spare key outside! She's a psychologist, psychiatrist, or whatever it's called, she probably figured it out with that!"

Ray breathed out hard after his louder than intended answer. Again he looked to Alex as if to apologise for the inevitable trouble his words would cause.

She looked back at him without a hint of anger in her demeanour and Ray felt that, somehow, she understood his predicament and knew he was not to blame for anything that may result from his words.

Ray had been taken by surprise at just how well he had bonded with Alex.

Upon her arrival he had been horrified at the mere thought of a female DI but as time had passed Ray had to admit that, aside from a couple of clashes, they had indeed become firm friends and there was a mutual respect between them.

In fact he had warmed to Alex Drake far quicker than he had to her predecessor, Sam Tyler.That had been a rocky road indeed!

Ray had wished deeply that he could have simply declined the court summons but he knew that was not possible. It was a no win situation in his eyes.

"Thank you DS Carling", Alison finally spoke again, "No more questions".

The judge looked over to the defence.

"Are there any questions from the defence for this witness?" he asked.

"Yes, My Lord", Jarvis got to his feet.

Jarvis looked to Ray, clearly recognising that he didn't want to be taking part in these proceedings**.**

Ray being labelled a 'hostile witness' could, in Jarvis' opinion, be to the defence's advantage.

Unwilling as he had been to speak against his colleague, Jarvis surmised that DS Carling would have no trouble speaking out for her if asked the right questions.

"DS Carling, I believe you were present when a Mister David Bonds was discovered to be behind a hate campaign against the developer Danny Moore. If it helps jog your memory, this was the day of the Royal Wedding", Jarvis explained. "Your statement indicates that both Caroline Price and the defendant were present in CID at this time. Could you please describe the atmosphere between them?"

Ray had to suppress a grin, as he recalled the day in question, and the row Alex had with Caroline.

"They were rowing big time", Ray answered, "No love lost between them two. DI Drake told Caroline Price in no uncertain terms exactly what she thought of her leaving her daughter at school on Royal wedding day, when everyone else goes home to watch it. And something about Caroline trying to score cheap points off coppers".

"Hardly the actions of an obsessed person", Jarvis remarked.

"DS Carling", Jarvis began again, "You worked alongside the defendant for quite some time. Can you tell the court if she ever said or did anything, which gave you reason to believe that she wished the Price family any harm?"

"No, it's all rubbish", Ray was firm in his response, "Sure the Prices wound us all up but nobody, DI Drake included, would have wished them any harm!"

"And were you ever under the impression that the defendant harboured an obsession with the Price family?" Jarvis continued.

"She mentioned them a bit, but wemall did...They could be a right pain in the arse when you were trying to nail some scumbag", Ray explained. "But obsession? No. I always thought she and they were on the same wavelength really - being a bit posh and all, nothing more".

Jarvis was pleased.

This 'hostile' witness certainly was proving useful to the defence and Jarvis was convinced Alison would be cursing him under her breath.

Jarvis had hoped Ray would offer in depth answers, which were sympathetic to the defence, and he certainly was.

"DS Carling, when the initial telephone call came into CID informing the defendant of the impending car bomb", Jarvis began another one, "did you feel the defendant was doing all she could to prevent this bombing?"

"Yeah definitely!" Ray confirmed. "This was a biggie and with Scarman visiting the station soon, I thought she wanted to make this one look good - solving a crime before it happens. She had all the information on this white board and got on the case right away. I mean, I know the Prices were a pain, but no one wanted that to happen, not with their kid and all. We're coppers, we stop that kind of thing, not cause it!"

"Thank you DS Carling", Jarvis nodded, "No more questions, My Lord".

Alex shot Ray a small smile as he looked at her one last time.

He was leaving the witness box and she had been well aware of the look of concern on his face throughout the entire proceedings.

Several times Alex had tried to give Ray subtle looks of reassurance as he had spoken, just so he could be sure there were no hard feelings from her.

The law was the law and Ray had to obey the summons to give evidence just like anybody else.

Once again the defence had spun Ray's answers to sound potentially incriminating, just as they had done with Evan.

But Jarvis had impressed Alex. He had known exactly which buttons to press in the way he had quizzed Ray.

Ray's protectiveness of the CID team had played against the prosecution but only time would tell if it had been beneficial to the defence.

It all came down to what the jury believed and how they saw the evidence and testimonies.

Alex sighed.

Day one of the trial was almost at an end.

Evan and Ray had played their part and Alex knew she would soon be sent back to prison for the night to face the inevitable questioning from Jill about what had gone on.

Alex didn't know what she would tell her.

Did she try and stay positive or did she admit that, at the moment, it was looking bad?

End Chapter 10...

As usual big thanks to Heidi for beta-ing and Skywise for being a legal brain! :)

(_As with previous chapters I sometimes have problems with formatting when I upload fics to this website. Sometimes this site loses gaps, bunches stuff all together and generally messes with the layout, despite having been beta'd. If this happens with this chapter, please take that into account as I don't yet know what causes this website to do this during the upload_)


	11. The Trial: 3rd Witness DCI Robertson

**Asheto Ashes: Evidence**

**Chapter 11**

**The Trial: 3rd witness DCI Robertson**

The witness looked briefly and with a sense of satisfaction at the defendant in the dock.

'Gotcha!', he thought.

The DCI hadn't liked her from the moment he had first set eyes on her on the day of her arrest.

His dislike of women in the police force was well known at his own station and this trial was the culmination of his belief that this one was, as the saying went, 'guilty as sin'.

His opinion had been reinforced as he had interviewed her. All through the interview Robertson had felt that this woman was hiding something, that she was in possession of details she still hadn't revealed.

None of her answers contained plausible alibis and no solid explanations had been given. She had appeared more and more worried as his questioning had continued, until, finally, he had charged her.

He knew when someone wasn't telling the whole truth, his copper's eye always spotted it.

"DCI Robertson", Alison began, "As the arresting officer, can you please tell the court what lead you to arrest Detective Inspector Drake?".

Robertson nodded, this would be easy and then he would be down the pub with the boys in time for a round of drinks.

It was, in his eyes, a clear open and shut case.

"We acted on a tip off advising that there were items of interest in the flat occupied by Detective Inspector Drake", Robertson explained, "We didn't know what exactly, only that it related to the deaths of Mister and Mrs Price".

Alison nodded for her witness to continue.

"We arranged a search warrant and did indeed find many items of interest in DI Drake's flat. She immediately became the prime suspect in this investigation and was taken into custody by myself and DI Matthews a short while later", Robertson concluded his explanation of the chain of events that had led to Alex's arrest.

"And what did you find that so convinced you of the defendant's involvement in these murders DCI Robertson?" Alison asked as several items of evidence began to be handed around the court.

"We have quite a few items here as you can see", Robertson replied.

There was silence for a few moments as the evidence was handed around and examined..

"The first item drew our attention straight away and we believe it is key to this case", Robertson explained, "A makeshift calendar dating from July 1981 to October 1981. As you can see, the days have been marked off as they have passed...Yet mysteriously the markings stop and are marked with a cross on the day of October 10th, the day the Price's were murdered so horrifically and their young daughter orphaned".

Again there was silence as the jury took in the evidence before them.

"We interpret this as being a countdown to the bombing. A timetable if you will", he continued, "making sure everything went according to schedule".

Robertson waited, watching as the jury took a good look at the calendar.

"This calendar clearly demonstrates the level of premeditation and planning behind this crime", he added, "That this was carried out by a calculating individual who had planned everything to the last detail".

"And what else did you find DCI Robertson?"

"Several items relating to the Price family and legal firm", Robertson continued, "a scrap of paper was stuck to the wall with a private telephone number written on it, this number being 9460549".

"For the benefit of the court the defence would like to point out that this telephone number is confirmed as being the Price family's own home telephone number", Alison explained to the court.

"Yes that's right", Robertson nodded, "It has also been established that the defendant found this piece of paper on the body of Mister Martin Kennedy who I believe has already been mentioned in this case".

"The defendant kept this piece of paper, thispiece of _evidence_", Alison went over the facts, "on the wall in her own flat with this disturbing calendar?".

"Yes", Robertson nodded once again.

"And were there more items DCI Robertson?' Alison continued.

"On the wall we discovered a poster for 'The pop group' bearing the slogan 'We are all prostitutes'. This is a replica of a poster owned by a young suspect initially thought to be involved in making threats against the Docklands developer Mister Danny Moore", Robertson continued, "This young lad, whilst under investigation by the defendant's CID was charged by DI Drake and represented by none other than Caroline Price herself. I might also add that these charges were later dropped."

"I see...", Alison said listening intently, "I understand there were further items also?"

"Oh yes. A leaflet advertising functions onboard the private yacht 'Sunborn'. The defendant arrested a young man on suspicion of rape onboard that very ship", Robertson explained..."A Mister Ryan Burns who it transpires went on to be represented by Mister Evan White of the Price legal firm. I might add that the charges against Mr Burns were _also_ later dropped".

Alison nodded at the latest Price connection.

"Were there other paraphernalia on the wall? More, shall we say, 'normal' things?"she enquired.

Robertson shook his head.

"No. Almost everything on this wall related in some way to the Prices. Newspaper clippings of interviews they had given, the aforementioned telephone number, business cards, leaflets", Robertson listed the items, "Everything was in some way connected to the Price family or cases connected to the Prices".

"Did the defendant give any explanation for these items she had displayed on her wall?" Alison asked.

"No she didn't", Robertson was shaking his head, "all she said was that it wasn't how it seemed".

"And how did it seem DCI Robertson?" Alison got straight to the point.

"It seemed to me that we were dealing with someone utterly obsessed, dangerously obsessed, with the Price family", Robertson said sounding confident "we may never find out the reason for or cause of this obsession...but I do believe it became twisted as time went on and finally lead to murder".

Alison nodded but said nothing, clearly wanting Robertson to continue.

"I believe the defendant manipulated all around her with her psychology expertise to cover her tracks. I believe she used her police resources to pretend to be trying to prevent the car bombing, whilst all along she was actively working with the drugs lord Arthur Layton to arrange the bombing".

"And why do you think this DCI Robertson?" Alison quizzed.

"Oddly enough, one of the items of the defendants disturbing wall, was a mug shot photograph of Arthur Layton. As you know the defendant met with Arthur Layton twice in Wormwood Scrubs prison", Robertson stated, "We believe Layton had been working for Drake in exchange for striking a deal. With her knowledge of the Prices, Drake may well have known that Layton was applying for bail that day, so here she had an ample opportunity to offer Layton a deal - plant the bomb and all the evidence against him would vanish...and with it the charges against him. In his position, how could he possibly say no?".

Alison nodded as she listened.

"In her position she would have been well aware that Layton's record showed he had form for the use of explosives....It's all a bit convenient really when you look at the overall picture. He had the expertise needed, he was represented by the Prices and he was in no position to say 'no'", Robertson nodded in agreement with his own words.

"We also believe that the supposedly anonymous tip off that DI Drake is alleged to have received was almost certainly Mister Layton calling to agree to the deal he had been offered".

Again there were several moments of silence before Alison ended her questioning.

"Do you have anything further to add DCI Robertson?"

"No", Robertson shook his head, "I believe the case against DI Drake speaks for itself".

"In that case my Lord", Alison looked to the judge, "the prosecution rests".

Jarvis glanced at Alex as he stood up, giving her as reassuring a look as possible.

"DCI Robertson", he began as he made eye contact with the witness.

Jarvis didn't like Robertson's 'cocky' demeanour one bit.

"Your belief that the anonymous telephone call the defendant received in CID, on the morning of the 9th, was a call from Arthur Layton...Do you have evidence to prove this?"

Robertson's face fell.

"No, but it fits the facts. If you look at the whole picture there is really nobody else it could have been".

"So is it unusual for the police to receive anonymous tip offs, DCI Robertson?" Jarvis continued.

The anonymous telephone call was a point Jarvis had noticed something interesting about and was certainly going to turn this one around on Robertson if he could.

"It's not uncommon", Robertson reluctantly admitted, "someone may, for various reasons, not wish to give their name".

"I see..." Jarvis paused.

He waited again before he continued.

"DCI Robertson, as you have such a problem with DI Drake's anonymous telephone tip off", Jarvis himself began to sound extremely confident now, "then could you please tell us again how the defendant first came to your attention?"

"We were tipped off", Robertson explained again, "that there were items of interest at her flat. I said this before".

"Yes, yes you did", Jarvis nodded, "and in what form did this tip off come?"

Robertson scowled at Jarvis. The lawyer had tricked him into a corner as was now going to make him look a fool in front of the court.

"Our tip off was received by telephone", Robertson stated.

"And who did it come from DCI Robertson?"Jarvis said raising an eyebrow.

Jarvis heard Robertson's annoyed sigh even from where he stood.

"It was anonymous", Robertson admitted.

"Anonymous. The call that led you to arrest DI Drake was anonymous", Jarvis emphasised, "and yet you have the audacity to criticise her for following up an anonymous tip off of her own".

"That's different!" Robertson protested.

"Is it indeed?" Jarvis's confidence was clear.

"Look it was a male caller, who seemed familiar with her" Robertson tried to add some detail.

"But still anonymous?"

"Yes", Robertson huffed.

Jarvis almost smiled to himself in satisfaction but managed to resist.

"Moving along DCI Robertson", Jarvis continued, "these items you found on the defendants wall. You claim they prove her involvement in the bombing but did you find anything amongst these items, or anywhere in the flat at all, that showed a specific plan to kill the Prices?"

"I think the evidence speaks for itself", Robertson shrugged.

"With respect DCI Robertson, that was not the question", Jarvis carried on, "were any specific plans found?"

"No", Robertson replied, his tone clearly annoyed.

"Was any bomb making material or information found?"

"No", Robertson again answered.

"Does the calendar itself mention anything about the Prices?"

"No", Robertson yet again replied.

"Very good", Jarvis did allow a confident smile to appear briefly this time.

"So what you are saying DCI Robertson is that you have arrested, charged and prosecuted the defendant based on nothing more than purely circumstantial evidence?"

"It's not like that", Robertson shook his head feeling angry at his integrity being questioned, "Everything, everything points towards Drake being behind this!"

"Really?" Jarvis said almost mockingly, "and where is your forensic evidence?".

"She was careful", Robertson protested, "the remains of the car were burned too badly for any forensic evidence to be retrieved".

"No fingerprints?" Jarvis quizzed, "Nothing?".

"As I said, the Ford Escort was far too badly burned", Robertson explained, "the flames, combined with the explosives and petrol, were so fierce that some parts of the vehicles metal work had melted into the road surface. Nothing was retrievable"

"So...No actual forensic evidence linking this crime to the defendant..." Jarvis commented to the court.

"No, but then we believe this Arthur Layton was used to do the dirty work", Robertson fought back, "so we didn't expect to find anything forensic to link her with the Escort".

Jarvis allowed a few moments for the court to digest the exchange between himself and Robertson.

"That is all", Jarvis turned to face the judge, "I have no more questions for this witness, My Lord".

As the witness was excused, Alex sat in the dock running Robertson's words through her mind.

She was troubled by one of his points in particular.

Robertson's anonymous tip off, which led to her own arrest, was puzzling Alex.

He had mentioned it during her interview at his station and it had bothered her even then.

But now Robertson had revealed more information about the caller.

A man who clearly knew her and the contents of her flat.

Alex had been right all along about the day before her arrest: someone had indeed been in her flat.

She had had her doubts about the case against her all along but now she could think of nothing but who it might have been who had called the police.

Was it someone out for revenge?

Was someone getting theirown back on behalf of someone she had arrested?

Her initial thought was that it had been Arthur Layton himself, but now he was being tied into the case that seemed far less likely.

Or was it someone who wanted her out of the way?

But why? Out of theway of what?

Whoever it was they were probably enjoying this and Robertson had certainly done nothing to help her case.

Thankfully Jarvis had done an excellent job of tearing Robertson's case to pieces, but Alex wondered if it would be enough.

She looked at Robertson as he left the witness box and was convinced he had mockingly winked at her.

Alex looked down again.

This case was balanced on a knife edge and she had no idea which way it would go.

The time in prison on the run up to the trial had been bad enough but, as Alex had listened to herself being labelled an obsessed killer, she really wasn't sure she would be able to cope if she were to be found guilty.

To be continued....

_(As with previous chapters I sometimes have problems with formatting when I upload fics to this website. Sometimes this site randomly loses gaps, bunches stuff all together and generally messes with the layout, despite having been beta'd. If this happens with this chapter, please take that into account as I don't yet know what causes this website to do this during the upload)_

_As ever, huge thanks to Heidi and Skywise!_


	12. The Trial: 4th Witness DCI Gene Hunt

**Evidence **

**Chapter 12**

**Fourth Witness - DCI Gene Hunt**

'It's now or never', he thought to himself, 'time for a showdown!'.

One of his team was in trouble and now was the time to begin the fight back.

Gene had entered the court room only moments earlier and had made his way to the witness box.

There he had, as usual, sworn to tell the truth...or as much truth as Alex would allow him.

If the truth was what they really wanted then Gene wanted nothing more than to tell the assembled masses of the court room that he had had enough of this charade. That his DI was innocent, that he wanted her released now, and that the real killer had blown himself to bits on October 10th 1981.

He had spent a long time, just nights before, consoling Raymondo.

Ray had not taken at all kindly to having his words twisted by the prosecution and had exploded with rage outside the court soon after. But now it was time to turn things around.

It was now time for the defence to take control of the proceedings and DCI Gene Hunt was to be a key defence witness.

Gene looked to Alex**;** the legal teams shuffling papers as they prepared to speak.

Immediately he was struck by how tired she appeared and he instantly knew why.

One of Alex's most noticeable traits was that she thought too much, far too much "'ead full of brains" as he had once said to her.

As a betting man, Gene knew it would be easy odds to bet that Alex had probably lain awake at night since the start of the trial**,** weighing up all the pros and cons of the evidence both for and against her.

Over analysing and thinking too bloody much, typical of Drake.

Gene shot Alex a look. A look which, without the use of words asked "You okay?"

Nobody in the courtroom seemed to notice this silent communication apart from the recipient of the look.

Alex gave a subtle smile of thanks and a slight nod in response.

Gene was satisfied. It was the closest he was going to get to speaking to Alex for the time being but it would do. She wasn't alright, this Gene knew. Nobody in Alex's situation - accused of a double murder they didn't commit - would be 'alright'.

But he was also relieved to have seen her and seen for himself that there were no more marks or bruises since he visited the prison. Gene was pleased in that respect that Alex had managed to keep herself out of any further trouble.

But now it was time for Gene to come to Alex's defence, to ride to her rescue, something he had been wanting to do since all this had started.

Time to go in with guns blazing....Oh how she would berate him yet again for his "cowboy metaphors" if she could hear his thoughts.

"DCI Hunt...", Jarvis began.

Gene looked to Jarvis. Ordinarily Gene would have written Jarvis off as another of those 'bloody lawyer types' that he generally had no time for - posh accent, too much money, Tosser!.

But right now Jarvis was the best hope there was for getting Alex off and back to freedom.

"...would you, as the defendant's superior officer, say that Detective Inspector Drake is a good police officer?"

"One of the best", Gene replied with absolutely no hesitation, "and I won't hear anybody say otherwise. I only have the best on my team! If they don't make the grade I'd ship 'em out in no time".

"Is DI Drake a trustworthy officer?" Jarvis continued.

"Ofcourse she is", Gene replied steadfastly, "Look, we work 'ard keeping scum off the streets! That means drug dealers, robbers, rapists, murders, you name it! Against scum like that I need a team I can trust - and DI Drake is part of that team!"

Before Jarvis could move on, Gene decided to continue. He was going to redeem as much of Alex's tarnished reputation as he could.

"Look, she's 'elped put away scores of dealers, pimps, and all sorts of robbing filth! You lot sleep safe in your beds at night because of coppers like Drake! So yes, she IS trustworthy! I'd trust her with my life!".

Jarvis nodded before moving on.

"DCI Hunt", the lawyer continued, "Could you tell us about DI Drake's relationship with the Price family? What did you make of it?"

Gene breathed in before answering, collecting his thoughts.

"I wouldn't say there was a relationship as such. I'm the first to admit the Prices were a pain in the arse for me", Gene explained, "but Drake...Well, she's a bit posh and the Price's were a bit posh, I guess they had that in common".

"Can I just ask you to clarify for the court", Jarvis butted in, "exactly what you mean by the term posh?"

Gene blew out a breath.

"Well, privately educated, well spoken", he sifted through the various stereotypes in his mind, "Telegraph rather than The Sun, Opera rather than football...Y'know, posh!".

"So, not working class?" Jarvis asked.

"If you want to put it that way", Gene agreed, "and if they're her kind of people she's hardly going to want to kill them".

"Did you ever see any signs of DI Drake harbouring a form of obsession with the Price family?" Jarvis moved the questioning along.

Gene shook his head.

"No. She spoke to Caroline a bit but then we're coppers, coming into contact with lawyers is part of the job. I must see the same half a dozen local lawyers representing suspects all flamin' week".

"Moving on to the day of October 9th 1981", Jarvis continued, "could you give us an account of DI Drake's actions on that day relating to the car bombing?".

Gene nodded.

"October 9th, we had a short notice warning that Lord Scarman would be making a visit to the station so naturally I wanted everything to be spot on, perfect".

"I see", Jarvis prompted Gene to continue.

"While everyone else is running around tidying and making CID presentable, Drake 'ere is running around chasing up leads about some car bomb that might or might not happen".

"And what did you make of this?" Jarvis queried.

"At first I thought she was on a wild goose chase, that this lead of hers would come to nothing", Gene explained, "but as time went by, it became apparent that she was indeed onto something".

"And how would you describe her behaviour on the day?" Jarvis quizzed, "her emotional state?".

"She was concerned, naturally", Gene answered, "she was trying to stop a murder, trying bloody 'ard to stop it!".

"But she failed", Jarvis stated.

"Yes", Gene admitted, "yes, she failed. We failed. If we hadn't been held up by a broken down lorry we would have made it in time to save them and that little girl would still 'ave her folks".

Jarvis nodded somberly.

"And after the car bomb exploded", Jarvis moved on, "how did DI Drake react?".

Gene thought back to the event, the memory of looking down from the grassy hill at the burning wreck.

"She was gutted, obviously", he began, "She'd seen two people she knew get blown to bits right in front of her. Nobody wants to see somethin' like that. She fell to her knees and screamed, shock I 'spose".

Again Jarvis nodded.

"Has DI Drake ever said or done anything to give you the impression that she was pleased that the Prices were now dead?"

"Absolutely not!" Gene was adamant, "She's a good copper, one of the very best! She would never ever have anything to do with anything like this! There's more chance of Maggie Thatcher voting Labour than Drake being behind this!"

"Thank you very much DCI Hunt", JarVis nodded to indicate that he had finished.

Once again, Alison got to her feet for the prosecution.

She gave the Manchester DCI a look, taking in his appearance and sizing up her opponent.

Even from where she stood she could almost see the sense of loyalty between this witness and the accused.

"So...DCI Hunt", Alison slowly began as she fixed the DCI with her glare, "where to start."

Gene returned the glare. He wasn't going to be intimidated by this woman.

"You have told the defence that you believe DI Drake to be a trustworthy police officer", Alison stated.

"That's right", Gene said, "honest as the day is long".

Alison nodded, "So she is completely honest? No misdemeanours, not even any minor transgressions?"

Gene shook his head, wondering what Alison was trying to get at.

Ray had warned him about Alison and the way she made seemingly everything appear incriminating.

"No, nuthin'", Gene again replied.

"That's interesting because we have record of a reported incident from mid 1981".

Gene was baffled, even casting Alex herself a quizzical glance where she stood in the dock.

"What are you gettin' at Luv?", Gene demanded.

"In mid 1981 a red Audi quattro, registration JLY 751V, was reported missing from outside the Fenchurch East police station", Alison finally explained, "You are the registered keeper of this Audi quattro are you not DCI Hunt?"

"I am", Gene agreed, "but I think you're making something out of nothing 'ere".

"Who took the car DCI Hunt?" Alison quizzed.

"Look it's not like you're making it sound", Gene fought back.

"I ask again", Alison repeated "Who took the car?"

Gene huffed.

"DI Drake took the quattro", he reluctantly admitted as he began to understand Ray's warning.

"Detective Inspector Drake took the car", Alison continued, "without the consent of the owner. Hardly the actions of a supposedly trustworthy police officer now?".

"It's not like that", Gene disagreed, "she needed to retrieve some evidence fast, and she just didn't tell me she'd used the quattro. Per'aps she couldn't even find me, it's a big police station after all!".

"Yet you were concerned enough to report it missing?" Alison stated.

"Of course I was! I thought some spotty little boy racer had nabbed it, in which case it would have been ploughed into a building in five minutes flat".

Alison paused for a moment to allow the jury to take in the details.

"Whilst we are on the subject of whether DI Drake is trustworthy", Alison continued, "allow me to cast your mind back to CID's investigation into the theft of Children in Need charity money collected by a Mr Gill Hollis".

Gene waited, he knew where this one was going.

"Is it true DCI Hunt that this investigation was carried out using, shall we say, dubious methods - methods which saw you temporarily suspended and sent on leave?".

Reluctantly, Gene nodded. "I was suspended, yes, briefly".

"DCI Hunt, who was it who reported your actions to your superiors and was therefore responsible for you being suspended?" Alison asked.

Gene didn't want to answer. He knew he had been, procedurally at least, in the wrong that day but nothing had been making sense with Hollis's story.

"Who was it, DCI Hunt?" Alison repeated her question.

"Look it was DI Drake alright?!" Gene answered loudly, "but she was doing her job! We were dealing with a slippery character and our methods just clashed. Seems my methods weren't so acceptable anymore, but we got our result and that Hollis bloke is now banged up where he belongs!"

Alison again paused.

"So after taking a vehicle without consent, and betraying your friendship and professional trust during an investigation", Alison looked briefly over to Alex, "you still consider this woman to be trustworthy and honest?"

"Yes I bleedin' well do!", Gene placed emphasis on every word.

"Well let's move on to another issue now", Alison decided, "DI Drake's arrest of Mr. and Mrs. Price for possession of narcotics".

Gene listened. This Alison was irritating him no end, just like Caroline Price used to.

"On October 9th DI Drake took both Tim and Caroline Price into custody for possession of narcotics, a charge they both strenuously denied at the time", Alison continued, "The very next day, you let them go, how come?"

"There was no evidence against them", Gene simply answered.

"No evidence?" Alison checked.

"Nothing in the evidence room relating to their arrest", Gene explained, "in which case we had no reason to hold them for any longer".

"So what happened to the cocaine DI Drake, this completely trustworthy officer, is alleged to have found in the Price house?", Alison continued.

"I dunno", Gene admitted, "There was nothing in the evidence room".

"Is DI Drake a drug user DCI Hunt?", Alison asked.

Gene was surprised at hearing such a question.

"Christ, of course she isn't", he was getting angry, "She's a police officer, she doesn't take drugs and she doesn't arrange murders either".

"That will be for the jury to decide DCI Hunt", Alison reminded the witness.

She paused for a moment.

"And on the subject of murders DCI Hunt, let's move on".

Gene waited, wondering what rubbish this woman would spout next.

"I believe you accompanied DI Drake on one of her visits to Arthur Layton in Wormwood scrubs prison?".

"I did", Gene nodded.

"Tell me, is it accurate to state that he seemed to know all about this impending car bomb?".

"He was taunting us both about it yes after being questioned on the subject", Gene agreed, "saying he knew about a car bomb, on a timer, but he could have just been talking nonsense to get a reaction from us".

"And did you, at any time, leave DI Drake alone with Arthur Layton?"

Gene thought back...

"Yes but just for a minute", he replied, "I went back to the quattro to wait for her. Scarman was at my station and I needed to be there, not poncing about prisons. I thought if I went back to the car then Drake would inevitably have to follow - 'cos otherwise she was walking back".

"Did she tell you what she had discussed with him in the few minutes they were alone?", Alison asked.

Gene shook his head, "No, she just called him a bastard then we changed the subject".

"Hmmm..." Alison digested the information.

Gene liked Alison less and less as the questioning went on. It was as if she had the ability to read negative things into the smallest of events.

"DCI Hunt, would you say DI Drake is a rational, stable individual?"

"As stable as any woman is", Gene answered without hesitation.

Alison scowled at him, the remark clearly having not gone down well.

"I don't doubt that DI Drake is an experienced officer. I also don't doubt that she must have dealt with all sorts of violent cases", Alison continued, "So why did she take the Prices death so badly? Why did she break down and scream in the middle of the street at a murder scene?".

"Look, I dunno", Gene was getting angrier, "you'd have to ask one of these psychology types - like Drake - about why people react as they do. Like I said, this involved people she knew, people she respected. This wasn't the usual case of some unknown victim, she knew these people so she's bound to take it 'ard!"

"Thank you DCI Hunt", Alison finished, "no more questions for this witness".

As Gene left the witness box he was unable to take his eyes off Alex.

She in turn looked to him, trying to hide her concern and worry at Alison's line of questioning.

Eventually Gene had to break his gaze and left the court room.

* * *

Gene's pulse raced in anger as he headed straight down the corridor and to the outside, onto the London street.

Right now he needed three things**;** some air, a ciggie and a drink.

Outside**,** amid the sound of the traffic and the grey London day**,** Gene leant against the walls of the court.

He reached into his black overcoat and retrieved his cigarettes and a lighter as the many pedestrians of London passed him by without a glance.

After a moment, the cigarette was lit and Gene inhaled the smoke deeply.

He understood how Ray had felt down after he had given evidence.

"There you are Guv!" a familiar male voice called.

Gene looked round as Ray approached, clearly having been looking for him.

"I only just got here", Ray said apologetically, "got held up by bloody Millwall fans fighting this morning. How did it go?"

"You were right Ray" Gene took another lung full of his cigarette, "That Alison bird's a harpie! She's out to get Drake".

"But they can't", Ray protested, "I mean they've got nothin' on her!"

"The way that woman twists things, she could probably convince a jury that Drake was behind the great fire o' London", Gene flicked his fag ash onto the pavement.

"What are we gonna do then, Guv?", Rays concern was genuine, "I mean, they can't pin this on Drake".

"It's all down to the next witness now, Raymondo. And she'd better play this one to win", Gene chucked his cigarette end on the ground. It wasn't finished but he was too agitated to smoke anymore of it.

Once again, the Guv reached into his overcoat and this time produced his hip flask.

"Who's up next then?" Ray enquired.

Gene took a gulp of his whiskey, savouring it as the taste hit him hard.

"Bolly Kecks".

End chapter 12...

_(As with previous chapters I sometimes have problems with formatting when I upload fics to this website. Sometimes this site randomly loses gaps, bunches stuff all together and generally messes with the layout, despite having been beta'd. If this happens with this chapter, please take that into account as I don't yet know what causes this website to do this during the upload)_

_As ever, huge thanks to Heidi and Skywise!_


	13. The Trial: 5th Witness DI Alex Drake

**Evidence Chapter 13**

**5th Witness - DI Alex Drake**

Alex closed her eyes momentarily and breathed, deeply and slowly, before opening them again.  
In her career she had been in court more times than she cared to remember, but never before as a defendant.  
She wasn't one for nerves but even she had to admit that, on this occasion, she was very much on edge.  
The evidence she would give today, and how the jury would perceive her, would have a huge bearing on the rest of her life. More than anyone in this court could possibly imagine.

To try and give the jury a good impression, Alex had attempted to appear as best as she could.  
The time in prison had taken a hard toll on Alex and Jill had spent the evening trying to help Alex look as presentable as possible.  
Alex had selected a top that did not allow her bra strap to be visible, something she felt might not be well received in a court room.  
The final touch was something Alex had been thinking about doing for some time. Her hair had been difficult to maintain in the prison so, on Jill's advice, she had finally arranged for a trim.  
Before she knew it, the perm was gone and Alex had seen a reflection looking back at her that she felt the court would see as appearing more professional than her previous appearance.

The consequences of a guilty verdict went much further than the inevitable life sentence that would be handed down.  
Alex's nerves caused her pulse to race at that very thought.  
Those two words "life sentence" raced about in Alex's mind.  
Although "life" didn't generally mean life, it could mean anything up to twenty or thirty years, maybe even more.  
But her bigger concern was Molly.  
If this 1981/2 world was leading her somewhere, if there was a chance of something happening which would one day lead her to waking up back in the real world, then she would finally be reunited with her beloved daughter once again.  
A guilty verdict would inevitably derail that possibility. If that happened then Alex would not only spend the next thirty-odd years in prison for a crime she didn't commit, but she would spend the next 30-odd years longing for the precious daughter she might never see again.

Alex looked around the court.  
She hadn't failed to notice the members of CID who had seated themselves in the public gallery, Gene, Ray and Chris. Shaz must still be on duty.  
She missed them terribly every day - missed Gene stomping around CID verbally labelling her "Bolly Kecks", Ray puffing away on his ciggie instead of working and Chris being a sandwich short of a picnic.  
Alex then looked to Jarvis as he shuffled some paperwork in readiness.  
He had been to see her in the court cells already that morning as she had sat waiting for the proceedings to begin.  
He had enquired if she was okay. Was she ready? Was she feeling confident?  
He had told her to just look at him and answer his questions, to ignore everybody else in the court room.  
"Just focus on me", he had said, "and you'll be fine".  
Alex knew all of this from experience, but she had felt comforted by Jarvis taking the time to prepare her to give her evidence.

"Ms Drake", Jarvis began, "Could you please tell the court how you first came into contact with the Price family?"  
Alex took a moment to take in a breath before she spoke. Focus.  
"Caroline Price was representing a young man suspected of having involvement in threats made against the Docklands developer Daniel Moore", Alex truthfully explained.  
"And did you two hit it off well?" Jarvis continued.  
"We didn't see eye to eye, no", Alex again answered truthfully.  
"Is it accurate to say that you argued with Caroline Price?" Jarvis asked.  
"Yes, that would be accurate", Alex nodded, "I was trying to persuade our suspect that it would be better for him to confess now and I felt Caroline was doing nothing but blocking me. I appreciate that is...was...her job, but I felt that she was simply being difficult because of her dislike of the Police".  
"And is it right to say this argument became somewhat heated?" Jarvis quizzed, "ending with a little name calling?".  
Alex bit her lip.  
"I did call her a rude bitch yes", Alex admitted, "but it was in the heat of the moment after Caroline herself had made some equally unprofessional jibes regarding my working for the Metropolitan Police".

Jarvis nodded. This was good.  
"How would you describe your relationship with the Price family?" Jarvis proceeded and nodded to Alex for her to answer.  
Alex thought before answering. There was a lot to remember, many months worth.  
"I didn't meet Tim until very shortly before the bombing", Alex answered.  
"Then please tell the court of your relationship with Caroline Price", Jarvis prompted.  
"Caroline was..." Alex collected her thoughts, "Caroline was strong willed, passionate about truth and justice. I admired her belief that women can hold down just as successful careers as men, even in positions of power".  
"So you harboured no ill will towards any of the Price family?" Jarvis asked.  
"None whatsoever", Alex reassured Jarvis.  
Jarvis waited a moment before moving on.  
"I would now like to move on to your arrest of Tim and Caroline Price for possession of narcotics on October 9th 1981".  
Alex nodded in understanding, knowing this might be awkward to explain.  
"As we have heard from DCI Hunt, the Prices were released because the evidence against them could not be found. Can you explain this to the court?"  
Alex closed her eyes momentarily, composing both her words and thoughts.  
"I wish I had done things differently that day", Alex said somberly.  
"How do you mean?" Jarvis quizzed, "please go on...".  
Alex looked around briefly.  
"The drugs were not theirs", Alex admitted, "I was so concerned about the car bomb plot that I decided to remove Tim and Caroline from harm's way".  
"And what did you do?" Jarvis asked.  
"I took some evidence - cocaine - from another case and used it as cause to arrest the Prices" Alex continued, "I had to get them safely out of the way and that seemed the most efficient method. Nobody could get to them if they were safely locked away at the station".  
There was silence and Jarvis nodded to Alex for her to continue.  
"I tried to explain. I was trying to save their lives", Alex said with great sincerity in her voice, "I thought if they were in our protective custody then the bomber wouldn't have a hope of harming them".  
"But the Prices were released", Jarvis continued.  
"Yes. On October 10th", Alex nodded looking down as she remembered the events, "I put the cocaine back with the evidence that I took it from, that's why they were released...There was nothing to link to them".  
"I see", Jarvis said as he looked towards his client, "And what happened next?".  
"I received a telephone call in CID"  
"And who was it from?", Jarvis asked.  
"Arthur Layton", Alex answered truthfully, "he was taunting us, taunting me, that he was out of prison".  
"What happened then?"Jarvis prompted Alex to continue her story of the events of that day.  
"After the telephone call it would seem everyone started to realise that the bomb plot was real - that I wasn't following up a dead lead", Alex continued, "Myself and DCI Hunt rushed to find the Prices' at the courts but we only found Evan. He told us where they were so we hurried to Ash Street, near the girls' school".  
"And?" Jarvis prompted.  
"If we had just been faster....even by ten seconds", Alex broke her eye contact with Jarvis and looked down, ".....if we had just got there sooner....it might have all been different..."

Alex bit her lip and took a breath.  
She hadn't gone over the events of the car bombing in such great detail before and doing so was not easy.  
The bombing itself had played over in her memory, time and time again, but she had never before had to talk people through the events that had changed her life so drastically at such a young age.  
To Alex, it felt like pouring salt into a wound.  
Jarvis waited patiently for several moments, allowing Alex to calm herself.  
"When you're ready", he said in a softer tone.  
Alex nodded.  
"We arrived at the entrance of Ash Street to find a lorry blocking the road. It tried to turn around, I tried to gain the drivers attention but it stalled", Alex continued.  
Jarvis nodded.  
"I ran around the lorry. I had to get to the Ford Escort, gain their attention, anything just to get them clear of that car", Alex recalled, "but it was too late, just too late!"  
There was silence as the court listened to the tale.  
Alex was usually calm and collected in court but she could feel a well of emotion within her as she described the painful memories.  
"The last thing I recall is hearing Caroline shouting for her daughter to come back to the car", Alex tried her hardest to suppress the tears she could feel welling up in her eyes.  
She couldn't break down in court, she just couldn't.  
But the memory of her father, Tim winking at her a split second before the blast, would haunt her forever. His Bowie clowned admission of guilt was however something she could not reveal here.  
"Then came the blast, so huge and so hot...I was knocked off my feet by the force of it".  
"Could you please tell us how you reacted?"Jarvis gently prompted.  
"I was numb", Alex answered, "it took a few moments for it all to sink in. I watched their daughter being taken to safety and then it hit me".  
"What did?" Jarvis asked.  
"The realisation that I had failed them", Alex said. "These were people I knew, people I greatly respected! I knew this car bomb was being planned and yet I failed and watched them die...."  
Alex trailed off as she spoke. She realised how perilously close she had come to saying "watched them die _again_".  
"Is it true that you broke down in the street?" Jarvis moved on.  
Alex nodded.  
"Yes", she answered, "These were people I knew, a family; a child now orphaned who will grow up living with what she saw that day".  
"Thank you. I think you have painted a clear picture of these events", Jarvis said as he prepared to move his defence questioning on.

Alex waited in the silence that fell between the questioning.  
That had been a particularly hard event to talk about, especially under the circumstances of the murder trial.  
Alex briefly looked to the public gallery and saw Gene was staring at her intently.  
She could read his look easily. He wore a look of concern and frustration as he looked at her.  
Alex looked away as she realised she had established eye contact with Gene.  
She knew his feelings quite clearly about this whole charade.  
She knew he wanted her to reveal all about Tim Price and his VHS confession but he could never know why that was not an option - not that a tale of a now non-existent VHS tape would be believed anyway.  
Alex simply had to look away from Gene. She could feel him urging her to come clean and tell the real truth but, much as it pained her, she couldn't possibly allow that to distract her.

"Moving on", Jarvis began again, "could you please tell the court if you have ever suffered any mental health issues?"  
The question was offensive but Alex understood why it had to be asked - it was a line the prosecution would be pursuing as a possible motive.  
"No", Alex shook her head in absolute certainty, "never, not ever".  
The irony of that statement was not lost on Alex. Denying having any mental problems whilst believing yourself to be living almost 30 years in your own past.  
"Have you ever displayed any obsessive behaviour towards the Price family?" Jarvis continued.  
That was an awkward one.  
She knew how her behaviour towards the family could be perceived by someone convinced of her guilt, but they could never know or understand why Alex had hovered around the Price family so much.  
"No", Alex again shook her head, "I was well acquainted with them and encountered them quite often both in and outside of work but that's all".  
"Could you please give the court your explanation of the various items discovered on the wall in your flat?"Jarvis asked the big question, "the newspaper clippings, the calendar marked up to October 10th 1981 etc".  
This was indeed the big one and Alex now felt herself to be in an awkward moral position.  
She had to go against everything that felt natural to her as a police officer.  
She had to lie in court.  
Trying to hide any body language that could be associated with lying Alex began to answer.  
"I cut out the newspaper article about the Prices because it's not everyday you find someone you know being interviewed for a national newspaper", she lied, "so I kept it".  
"The scrap of paper from the body of Martin Kennedy?" Jarvis continued, "The paper with the Prices'telephone number written on it?".  
"I took it because I wanted to speak to Caroline to see if she could give me some information on Kennedy", Alex answered with some truth to this question, "as part of the investigation into Kennedy's murder".  
"And the calendar", Jarvis asked, "with the days marked off until October 10th?"  
That was the big one and Alex had given this some thought already.  
"I mark my calendar off day by day", Alex explained trying to sound as honest as she possibly could, "but I took what I saw on October 10th quite hard. I just never gave it anymore thought and never marked anything off after that".

Jarvis once again allowed a few moments of silence. This had become his way of indicating that he was about to move on, giving the court time to digest what had just been said.  
"I'm afraid I must ask you this question", Jarvis carried on as he looked to Alex.  
She watched him, waiting for the next question.  
"Were you in any way involved with the murders of Tim and Caroline Price?"

"No I wasn't", Alex answered firmly, "I had nothing to do with it. I am a police officer and as such it is my job to prevent events such as this to the best of my abilities".  
Jarvis nodded in approval of the answer.  
"No more questions my Lord, the defence rests".  
And with that he gave Alex a reassuring smile as he seated himself back down.

Alison stood.  
She looked at the accused in front of her, saying nothing for several moments.  
Her instincts told her that this one wouldn't crack easily under her questions and that this may well be an interesting day in court.  
Yet Alison could also see the pressure the accused was clearly under.  
She would have to probe carefully with her questioning and try and find a weakness, try and hit a nerve.  
"So...Ms Drake", Alison began in an almost holier than thou tone of voice, "you stand before this court accused of extremely serious crimes. Crimes that would appall any decent human being".  
Alex watched Alison intently.  
It was clear to all that both parties were carefully sizing each other up for this exchange.  
"Let me jump straight into things", Alison said with determination, "during the investigation into the murder of Martin Kennedy, you called round to the Prices house to speak to Caroline Price. Is this true Ms Drake?".  
"Yes that's right", Alex agreed with a feeling that she should be extremely careful with the answers she gave Alison.  
"And while there you discussed the investigation with Mrs Price?", Alison asked, "followed up leads regarding Kennedy?"  
"Yes", Alex again agreed, "he had their number; I sought to eliminate Caroline from the enquiry".  
"Anything else happen while you were there?" Alison bluntly asked.  
Alex paused. Nothing particularly extraordinary had happened after all. Little Alex's school trip had been discussed but that was about it.  
Before Alex could think any further Alison cut in again.  
"Is it true that you were caught by Caroline Price, snooping around in their daughters bedroom?" Alison forcefully asked.  
"It wasn't like that", Alex denied, "I was passing the room and it reminded me of my own when I was that age. It took me right back".  
"So you were in the room?", Alison forced the subject.  
"Yes but not snooping", Alex shook her head at the accusation, "Caroline and I even had a chat in there, about childhood and how it was special".  
"Would you find it odd if someone took it upon themselves to snoop around the room of a child of yours?" Alison queried.

Alex paused before considering her answer as thoughts of Molly were inevitably triggered by Alison's words. Molly's room, her school bag, her hair brush, her MP3 player...all these little things rushed through Alex's mind upon being reminded of her daughter and her room.  
"Well?" Alison broke Alex from her thoughts, "if you would answer the question, would you find it odd?".  
"I suppose I might" Alex reluctantly agreed, "but as I said, it simply reminded me of being a child".  
Alison didn't speak to acknowledge the answer, opting instead to simply nod before moving on.  
"Let me now move on to something else I would like to ask you", Alison continued.  
Again Alison stretched out another moment of pause before she began.  
"You claim that these items on your wall, referring to the Price family and cases they were involved in, we're all simply innocent,".  
"That's right", Alex nodded making her reply sound as confident as possible.  
"You say that you kept news articles regarding the Price's merely because they were people you knew".  
Again Alex nodded, "Yes, that's true".  
"I put it to you Ms Drake that this isn't innocent at all", Alison's tone was harsh, "I put it to you that this is a disturbing display of an obsession with the Price family".  
"No that's not right", Alex protested.  
"I put it to you that you were obsessed with the family and that this obsession grew and grew until it finally led to murder!" Alison accused whilst holding firm eye contact with Alex.  
"No!" Alex continued to fight back, "I was trying to save them! Why is that so hard to understand!?".  
"Understand?" Alison almost mocked, "All the prosecution understands is that you simply wouldn't leave this family alone! Is that normal behaviour, Ms Drake?".  
"They were people I knew!", Alex defended herself.  
"Can you tell me if it is common for people harbouring obsessions towards other individuals to plaster parifinalia regarding them all over their walls?", Alison's attack continued.  
"I am not, was not, and never have been obsessed!", Alex stated flatly and with anger now clear in her voice.  
"Answer me please Ms Drake!" Alison demanded, "You are the police psychologist after all. Is this something obsessed individuals are known to do!?".  
"You're twisting this!" Alex replied in an attempt to deflect the question.  
"Answer!"  
Alex let out an angry breath. She could see the link Alison was trying to make.  
In Alex's years in the Force she had indeed encountered individuals who had indeed displayed the behaviours Alison described. It was actually quite common, particularly in stalkers.  
Alex looked down momentarily, her shoulders slumping somewhat as she breathed out.  
"Yes", she reluctantly admitted in a quieter tone, "Yes, in some cases this can be seen as obsessive. But that does not mean everyone who puts something on their wall in obsessed! Lots of people have things on their walls, it's not that unusual".  
"Not even when the people it concerns end up murdered?"Alison simply asked.  
"I didn't do this", Alex answered.  
"We shall leave that for the jury to decide", Alison remarked as she finished that particular line of questioning.

Alex looked briefly to Gene in the public gallery and saw that the DCI's face was flushed with anger.  
After a moment, Alex looked back to Alison to await the next onslaught.  
She didn't want to look towards Gene or her colleagues anymore. The feeling that she had let them down was becoming too much to bear.  
"Wormwood scrubs prison, Ms Drake", Alison began her next topic, "Arthur Layton".  
Alex nodded in understanding.  
"You went there to visit Arthur Layton on two occasions did you not?".  
"I did", Alex agreed.  
"And you discussed what with him?"  
Alex thought back to the visit, October 9th 1981 and the gloomy prison room with the glass separating prisoner from visitor.  
"I asked him what he knew about the Price family", Alex truthfully answered.  
"And why did you go all that way just to ask this of a random drug lord?"Alison dug her question in, "What could he possibly know?".  
"I just felt he was in on this plot", Alex replied.  
"And what brought you to this belief?" Alison continued.  
"I received a tip off by telephone on the morning of October 9th", Alex told the partial truth, "I believed Arthur Layton to be the caller".  
"I see", Alison nodded. "and when you went to see him, did you ask him to arrange the bombing?".  
"What?", Alex showed clear offence at the question and what it implied, "Of course not! I was carrying out an investigation!".  
"Did you arrange to cut a deal with him if he could arrange this bomb?" Alison continued.  
"No!" Alex denied the accusation.  
"Were you alone with Arthur Layton during this visit Ms Drake?". Alison continued her rapid fire questioning.  
"Yes", Alex admitted, "but I was with him for five minutes or so, that's all the visit lasted for!"  
"So no one heard anything you discussed with Layton?", Alison quizzed, "No one can back up your denials?".  
Alex shook her head reluctantly, "No, no one can back them up...just as no one can back up your accusations I might add".  
Alison nodded this time, agreeing that Drake did indeed have a point.  
"Alright Ms Drake, lets move on yet again", Alison continued.  
Alex took a deep breath, readying herself for whatever Alison was preparing to fire at her next.  
This time she didn't look to her colleagues, she just wanted no distractions.  
"Ms Drake you have told the court about the arrest of the Prices for possession of narcotics on October 9th 1981", Alison again began, "and how you took evidence from a separate investigation to arrest them".  
Alex again nodded her understanding at Alison's words.  
"What bothers the prosecution is how you gained access to the house to make the arrests", Alison stated.  
"We used a spare key to gain access", Alex admitted.  
"And just how on Earth did you know where to find it?" Alison shrugged in bafflement.  
Alex felt her pulse race slightly at that question. It wasn't something she had ever given any thought to on the day. She and Ray had just walked through the garden gate and Alex had simply gone for the spare key automatically.  
"It was a logical assumption", Alex cobbled together an explanation, "keeping a spare key under an ornament, a flower pot, a dustbin...it's all quite common".  
"Perhaps...", Alison acknowledged the explanation making sure her tone of voice sounded unconvinced.  
"Regarding the spare key", the prosecution continued yet again, "I will put another question to you".  
Alex waited.  
"I put it to you Alex Drake that you knew Arthur Layton was likely to be bailed", Alison began, "and that when he was, you told him that Mr Evan White had put the Ford Escort keys through the Prices letterbox so they could borrow the car".  
"No", Alex denied.  
"You then had Arthur Layton go round to the Prices address", Alison spoke over Alex's denial, "you had told him where to find the spare key and he then used it to gain access to the property".  
"No", Alex again denied, "None of this ever happened!".  
"Once in the property Arthur Layton then retrieved the keys to the Ford Escort and set the bomb at your request".  
"No!" Alex continued to protest her innocence, "I don't know where any of this has come from but it's not true!".  
"Your supposed investigation through all of this was just a charade to cover your tracks and make it appear that you were trying to prevent this wicked crime", Alison's tone was beginning to sound angry, "even your over the top performance, screaming in the road after the explosion, was just put on for show!"  
"I am telling you...", Alex too felt her temper rising, "I am innocent!".  
"I put it to you that you have masterminded and manipulated this entire situation and everyone around you", Alison's attack seemed to be coming to a head, "And that you are indeed behind the murders of Tim and Caroline Price!".  
"No! No! No!" Alex's voice was now raised, "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm innocent! I wanted to save them, good god I wanted to save them!"  
"No more questions my Lord", Alison abruptly ended having brought her proceedings to a bad tempered head, "the prosecution rests".

Alex watched as Alison sat down.  
She could feel the adrenalin rushing through her and her heart beating faster as she fought to contain the rage Alison had caused within her.  
She had so much more she had wanted to say, so many more explanations which she had spent endless nights creating in her head.  
But now it was ended and the jury would soon retire to consider their verdict.  
Alex was trying her best to stay optimistic, but after the exchange with Alison, she was beginning to seriously doubt if she would leave these proceedings a free woman.

End chapter 13

With thanks again to Heidi from the Luigi's forum for checking!


	14. Deal or No Deal?

**Evidence 14**

**A mutual exchange - All is revealed.**

The night was still, the hour having just passed 11pm.

There wasn't much traffic on the roads of London at this time of night other than the red Audi quattro, as it sped along the road heading in the direction of Gene Hunt's place of residence.

The drive home from Luigi's had been quiet, as had the evening in the trattoria.

Nothing was the same anymore without Alex.

Today's performance in the court had not filled Gene with much hope.

His only wish now was that the jury would look at the evidence they had been presented with and, despite how damning it may seem, decide that it simply was not strong enough to convict Alex.

But should it not go that way, should Alex be convicted of a double murder and be jailed for life then Gene would stand by her all the way.

He wouldn't try to move on with his life once they had taken her away. He would visit her as often as he possibly could, he would pull strings and call in favours to ensure that she was alright inside. He would even campaign for her - a retrial, a quashed conviction, anything at all that would get Alex out.

And that Alison... if she ever crossed him.

If he ever caught her for so much as parking on double yellow lines he would throw the book at her.

But he was jumping the gun.

Nothing had happened yet and the jury would continue their deliberations tomorrow.

Gene looked in the rear view mirror.

The car behind was very close, almost in the quattro's boot.

"Bloody idiot", Gene cursed under his breath, "get off my damned arse you tit!".

He stepped on the break sharply to cause the vehicle behind the break suddenly.

A moment later the tailgater dropped back to a normal position.

"Better", Gene responded.

He continued his drive for another thirty seconds or so when the vehicle behind took his attention again.

"Why are you bloody flashin' me now?", he remarked as he observed the car flashing it's headlights repeatedly.

"Right", Gene huffed, "I am gonna give you such a talking to sonny!".

With that, he pulled the quattro to a halt and steered the vehicle half up onto the pavement.

Gene opened the door and got out of the car, watching as the other vehicle pulled over behind him.

The street was dark. Gene had pulled up underneath a street light that was out.

The other vehicle was dark and had stopped at least fifty yards behind the quattro.

"You better 'ave a bloody good explanation for bein' up my arse and flashin' your lights like that mate!" Gene shouted from next to the quattro, "'ave I got a bloody light out or summin'?!".

The driver's door of the dark vehicle opened slowly and a suited figure got out.

Gene began to move towards him. Nobody tailgated Gene Hunt, especially not when he was in a mood such as he was tonight.

"That's close enough Detective Chief Inspector", a well spoken male voice said at a volume barely louder than talking.

"Who are you?" Gene demanded, looking on from where he stood half way between the quattro and the dark car.

"I think you will recall me", the well spoken voice began and its owner strolled towards Gene.

"Stop poncin' about", Gene said loudly, "who are ya?".

Gene strained his eyes in the dark to see the approaching figure.

As he did, his eyes adapted and he finally made the car out as a black Mercedes Benz.

The figure now became clear also.

A man, forties, with a neat short hairstyle, and moustache...

"You!" Gene finally realised the identity, "Spooky-dooky Bastard!".

"If that's what you wish to call me DCI Hunt", the MI5 agent held out his hand.

Gene refused to return the gesture.

"What do you want?" the DCI demanded.

"I told you some months ago, DCI Hunt." the agent quietly spoke. "We know you have the Artemis file and you were told in no uncertain terms that its return would be beneficial to both yourself and your lady colleague".

"Dunno what you're talking about mate", Gene shook his head, "besides, I've got more important things on my mind right now so if you would kindly piss off".

"Now you see I can't do that, DCI Hunt", the Spook shook his head, "I have been sent to make you an offer".

"An offer?"Gene repeated.

"Yes, an offer", the Spook nodded in the dark, "A mutual exchange of goods".

"What goods?" Gene demanded, getting angry.

"We are not stupid DCI Hunt, we know you took the file codenamed Artemis from the vault in Edgehampton", the agent explained, "Now, you have what we want...return it to us and you will have what you want".

"And what could you possibly have that I might want?" Gene mocked.

"What we have had all along DCI Hunt", the Spook gave a slight grin as he explained.

"And what might that be?", the Manc Lion snarled, the chill breeze of the night not helping his demeanour.

"Oh dear...", the Spook shook his head with a faint chuckle, "the Police force of today".

"You'd better start explaining pal", Gene demanded.

The spook took in a breath.

"DCI Hunt...I am very familiar with the unfortunate events surrounding your DI at the moment", the Spook began, "But did you really never wonder who it was who had searched her flat?"

Gene's eyes widened in horror as the truth hit him.

"Did you never wonder who tipped off the police about her supposed involvement in these murders?".

"You!" Gene erupted, "It was you! If you're telling me you did all of this just to get a poncy file back!".

"Yes DCI Hunt that is exactly what I am telling you!" the Spook announced, "We sent a team in to search her flat. We could not locate the Artemis file, but oh what a gold mine of other things we found!", the Spook continued his story, "the opportunity presented itself and it was decided to tip off another police station, name DI Drake as a suspect...Use her as bait if you will, to get to you".

"You bastards!!", Gene shouted and threw a hefty punch, hitting the MI5 agent squarely in the jaw.

The Spook fell backwards, toppling to the paved ground from the force of the Mancunian punch.

He held a hand to his jaw, dazed at the impact.

"No need for violence DCI Hunt", the Spook eventually spluttered from the ground, "What I bring you is the means to an end".

"I don't wanna hear it! That was for her!" Gene roared, looking down at the pitiful man on the pavement before him.

"Then in that case say goodbye to DI Drake for the next thirty years", the agent announced, "unless you want to end her ordeal now?".

"End it, how?" Gene reluctantly asked.

"Return Artemis", the Spook demanded, "and all will go the way you wish".

"How can you be sure of that?" Gene hated speaking to this man but the very thought that he could help Alex left him little choice in the matter. It was the first and only window of opportunity that had presented itself in Alex's situation.

"This jury was not chosen at random DCI Hunt", the Spook pulled himself back to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster.

"How do you mean?" Gene prompted him.

"Sarah Jones, 31, has been driving without insurance for six months", the Spook explained, "if she is found out she will lose her job. Raj Patel, 29, his uncle has been living in this country illegally for 6 years...if found out his uncle will be deported... Bill Patterson, 50, he's hiding stolen cash in his shed for a cousin who robbed a betting shop...All of these people, DCI Hunt, are open to being leant on by the security services. Need I go on? The verdict they give will be decided tonight, by your decision".

Gene looked away momentarily and let out a loud breath.

"You're saying I can get 'er out?" Gene checked, "that if you get your poxy file back Drake will go free?".

"That is exactly what we are saying DCI Hunt".

Gene paused, all the events and words of the last five minutes rushing through his head in a whirlwind. Finally he made his decision.

"Done!" he spat.

"You agree to our terms?" the Spook checked.

"If you agree to mine", Gene's voice was deadly serious.

"Which would be?" the Spook queried.

"You get your file back _after_ the not guilty verdict", Gene stated, "not a moment before. Call it insurance".

The Spook thought for a moment

"Deal", he agreed, "but if the file is not returned, she will be re-arrested. There is always something we can pin on her".

"You'll get your bloody file", Gene answered.

"In that case DCI Hunt", the Spook bowed his head momentarily and held out his hand, "it has been a pleasure doing business with you".

Again Gene refused the agent's hand.

"Just make sure...not guilty...then I never want to lay eyes on you ever again!" Gene snarled and made his way back to the quattro.

The driver's door slammed. The powerful Audi engine roared into life and with a screech of tyres, the quattro roared angrily off down the road leaving just a whiff of exhaust fumes in the night air.

The Spook turned back to his Mercedes.

"Such a pleasant chap".

End chapter `14

_Thanks again to Heidi from the Luigi's forum for beta-ing!_

_I do hope the twist has been worth the wait!_


	15. The Bargaining Chip

_(To my readers - I am so sorry this fic has been delayed for such a long time! I lost the writing bug some time ago and have only recently fallen back into my fic writing._

_Right, so here we go...Lets see if we can sort this mess out and get Alex out of jail....or will we?????)_

**Evidence 15 - The Bargaining Chip**

The warrant card was an instrument which never failed. Just one flash of it would always encourage people to step aside without question and let him pass. Today was no different.

As he walked down steps and through corridors every challenge was met with a simple flash of the warrant card.

And now he reached his intended destination at the end of a long corridor.

Gene waited for a moment at the heavy iron door before entering the block that housed the courts cells.

He knew that, officially, he shouldn't be down here but the recent turn of events had given him a new determination in what had appeared to be a lost cause.

Gene took his hip flask from inside his overcoat, unscrewed the top, and swigged back a large hit of his whiskey before proceeding in.

With a deep breath, Gene pushed open the door to the cell block with determination in his stride.

The guard, a young man in his early twenties, looked up from his desk where he was sat doing some paperwork.

Rising to his feet, he took in the sight of the imposing DCI before him.

Once again, out came the warrant card.

"Gene Hunt, Metropolitan Police", Gene barked with authority as he held the card out for the guard to see.

"Can I help you sir?", the guard asked, looking up.

"Alex Drake", Gene began forcefully as he looked at the row of heavy cell doors, "Which one's she in?".

The guard looked taken aback for a moment.

"I err, I don't think I can allow visitors", the guard shook his head, "I'm sorry sir, it's just the way it is".

Gene's anger rose. He wasn't coming this far to be turned away from seeing Alex, not now so close to the verdict.

He looked at the guard for a moment, his desk very neat with paperwork, pens and an ash tray.

"You smoke?", Gene asked?

"Err, yes sir", the guard replied nervously, surprised at the sudden change of subject.

Gene reached into his pocket and produced a crisp ten pound note, "good!".

He handed the note in the direction of the guard, holding it just under the young mans nose.

"Pop to the shop and go buy yourself as many fags as you can with this", Gene instructed.

"Sir", the guard shook his head again with nerves, "I can't do that, that's bribery".

Gene gave the naive young guard a smile of amusement.

"Lotta corruption in the force these days you know sonny Jim!", Gene began, "and that's why you're gonna take this tenner and go get some fags".

"But sir, it's against the rules", the guard continued to protest.

"No", Gene disagreed, "it's for your own good".

"How exactly?", the guard shrugged.

"Because otherwise I say I came down here after hearin' a commotion and saw you assaulting one of these prisoners!", Gene explained in a flat tone of voice which was deadly serious.

"But I haven't!", the guard looked shocked.

"Better get down that shop then hadn't you pal?", Gene asked, "cos if you're not 'ere then you can't be assaulting anyone can you?".

The guard held Gene's gaze for several seconds, weighing up the options and trying to decide if the DCI would make good on his threat.

The guard sighed, his shoulders slumping.

"Alright!", he snatched the tenner from Gene's hand, "She's in four and you've got ten minutes, but I'm not leaving the keys".

"Good choice my boy!", Gene commended the young guard and gave him an appreciative slap on the back as he left his desk and made for the door, "and you can get me Mars bar too while you're there!".

The guard shut the heavy cell block door behind him as he left, leaving Gene alone with the row of cells.

The block wasn't pleasant. The floors were concrete, the walls a dank grey.

The iron cell doors were very old, like the rest of the building, and their paint was scratched and battered.

Gene looked as he made his way down the row of locked cell doors until he finally found the cell marked "4".

The small black chalk board next to the door clearly displayed the name "Drake" in a guards scrawled writing.

He could do with another drink but his time was running out and he had to make the most of it.

Carefully, Gene pulled back the shutter of the small square peep hole on the cell door. It was just several inches square, just enough to look through and show the occupant half a face.

Gene looked through.

His heart sank with pity as he looked into the grubby cell with it's stone cold walls and sense of damp obvious within the brickwork.

The cell was half in darkness, the lighting clearly not working properly.

Gene's eyes were drawn to the sad sight of the figure sat on the bench which ran across the very back of the cell.

Alex sat huddled in the corner with her white jacket draped around her shoulders, her arms wrapped around her knees for warmth and her head drooped downwards in despair.

Gene felt a tremendous pang of guilt as he watched her. The thought that this had all come about because of something he had done had gnawed away at him endlessly since the late night encounter with the Spook.

"Hey", he called and gave a gentle tap on the metal of the cell door. It echoed slightly through the confined space of the cell.

He watched as Alex slowly looked up, clearly trying to make out the eyes that looked at her through the small square hole.

"Bols...", Gene continued, "It's me, I haven't got long".

With clear surprise Alex pulled her jacket on, doing it up for much sought after warmth, got to her feet and moved quietly to the cell door.

"Gene?", she asked, "What are you doing here!? You shouldn't even be down here".

"I know Bols, I know...", Gene agreed in a quiet tone and trying to keep his voice low, "Look, there's something you need to know...".

"And you too...", Alex cut him off before he could continue, "This is important. Just, let me speak first?".

Gene was silent, he had to accept her request and allow her to say whatever it was she clearly needed to say.

Slowly, like a caged animal, Alex placed her hand on the bottom of the square peep hole - resting her fingers on it's edge, almost close enough to touch Gene's face.

"Gene...", she began, casting a look downwards momentarily.

"Go on...", he urged.

"Gene, I...I don't think this is going to go well. The prosecutions case is too good".

Gene watched as his D.I's fears began to vividly surface and her eyes moistened with fresh tears of sorrow and worry.

Instinctively, Gene placed his hand comfortingly over Alex's in the small metal gap and gently stroked the back of her hand soothingly with his thumb in an attempt to calm her.

"Gene, I mean it", Alex wiped her clearly tear filled eyes with her other hand, "I think I'm going to prison for a long time. A very long time Gene, and there's nothing I can do about it".

Gene let out a sigh. He wanted to tell her, but at the same time he didn't want to, he really didn't. Just the thought that he might raise her hopes and then possibly be double-crossed by the Spook made him feel sick to his gut.

But the more he looked at her in this fragile state, the more he realised just how much damage was being done to Alex by being imprisoned for a crime he knew she was innocent of.

"God...", Gene bit his lip...he didn't want to tell her...he really didn't..."How long's it been Bolls? Since they...".

"Locked me up?", she finished his sentence for him.

"Yeah", Gene nodded, his sadness obvious.

"Fenchurch West arrested me in November last year, it's April 82 now", Alex sighed, "That's six months Gene".

"Christ...", the DCI cursed, his frustration growing and tearing at him.

"And I can't see it changing any time soon", Alex shook her head tearfully.

"You don't know that Alex", Gene said with slightly more force than he meant and dropped her nickname.

"But if it goes against me Gene, if they send me down for life...Please, please Gene just move on - All of you", Alex begged, "I don't want visitors, really... Seeing you all, knowing you're all out there, I think it would just kill me a little more each day".

Alex closed her eyes for several moments, not wishing to see Gene's look of hurt and rejection.

Gene took more of a grip on Alex's hand in the viewing gap, squeezing her hand for reassurance and watching as she opened her eyes to look at him once again.

"Come 'ere", Gene motioned with a movement of his head for Alex to come nearer the gap.

Alex obeyed, taking one more step nearer to the cell door which kept her imprisoned.

"That's better", Gene said soothingly as Alex stood right up against the cold metal of the door, her face right up to the gap.

The DCI let go of his DI's hand and reached forward to Alex's face in the square viewing hole.

With a gentle touch, he smoothed his thumb down Alex's cheek, catching and wiping away the tear that was slowly making it's way down her skin.

"I mean it Gene...", Alex sobbed as Gene once again took hold of her fingers on the metal of the door, "I'm not sure I can do this".

Gene pulled back from her hand and suddenly and hit the door hard with his palm causing Alex to jump in surprise.

"Good God Bolls!", Gene exclaimed at volume, "You're forcing me to tell you, aren't you?".

Alex tried to peer further through the gap, trying to understand why Gene was suddenly so angry.

"I'm sorry", she quietly apologised, "I didn't set out to upset you...".

Gene turned back to Alex, his heart begging him to tell her but his fears of betrayal warning him off.

Reluctantly Gene looked down to the concrete floor and sighed as if defeated.

There was a long silence as Gene looked down, unable to face Alex with the truth for several moments.

"Gene? Guv?", Alex begged from her cell, "Something's wrong. I can tell...You know I can always tell Gene".

"Bols...", Gene looked up with remorse...

"Tell me", she urged.

"I can't", he shook his head, "I shouldn't...It's dangerous, it's not signed and sealed yet, it could still go wrong".

"Please...", Alex again begged.

"No", the DCI defiantly responded, his look steely.

Alex suddenly made a sharp intake of breath as she analysed Gene.

"Do you know something?", she asked through the gap, "Gene! Do you know something that can help me!".

"Look it's not sorted yet!", Gene countered, wishing she would just get off the subject, "I didn't want to get your hopes up!".

"Gene you have to tell me! Please!", Alex pleaded, "It doesn't matter what it is, anything! Gene if you know something that can stop me going to prison you have to tell me, please!".

"It's not that bloody simple Drake!", Gene shouted back at her though the gap with a force of anger that took even himself by surprise.

There was a tremendous bang on the inside of the cell door that startled Gene.

"Simple! Do you think this is simple Gene!?", Alex yelled back with a fire Gene had not seen since before she had been arrested and taken from his world.

"Hey! Hey!", Gene urged as a wave of concern grew within him at Alex's reaction, "Look just calm down Drake!".

Again Alex hit the door in frustration, grazing the knuckles on her right hand.

"I'm sorry if it's not simple Gene!", the desperate Detective Inspector cried, "Do you think I find being locked up almost 24 hours a day to be simple?! Do you think I find being in prison simple?! Do you think being dragged here in handcuffs everyday is simple!? Do you Gene!?".

"Alex!!!", Gene shouted with an air of urgency that stopped her in her tracks, "Stop this!".

There was a moment of silence as Gene saw Alex step back and her eyes widen in realisation at what Gene was about to announce. He could see she had finally worked it out. There was no point hiding it now.

"I know who framed you Bols...", Gene lowered his head in shame.

"You....know?", Alex could scarcely believe the words she heard Gene speak.

"Yes", Gene nodded, "I do. They've offered you a way out, but only if I cut a deal with them".

"What kind of a deal?", Alex questioned as she once again neared the gap so they could talk quietly, "And who are 'they'?".

"Bols, cast your mind back", Gene began remorsefully, "RWF, Artemis, the Edgehampton weapons research facility, the vault...".

"What about it?", Alex hadn't yet made the connection.

"Luigis...", Gene continued, "...that Spook who came and sat with us, do you remember his veiled threat?".

"That something was missing from the vault and", Alex recalled and then it hit her, "...Oh my god".

Gene nodded as he saw her make the inevitable connection.

"I'm so sorry Alex", Gene apologised with his voice trembling with sorrow, "if I'd known this was what they were gonna do...".

"MI5?", Alex asked, her eyes pleading through the gap for confirmation.

Again Gene nodded.

"They're behind this whole charade, have been all along", Gene explained, "They sent a covert search team into your flat to look for the Artemis file, but they never found it".

"...Because you had it all along?", Alex guessed, her voice no more than a sad whisper.

The two police officers both looked down. The entire meeting had been emotionally draining for both of them.

Eventually Gene looked up and spoke.

"I saw that Spook last night. He came to me", Gene explained looking at the emotionally exhausted Alex before him, "If I return the damn file they'll lean on the jury and get a not guilty verdict. If I don't....".

"I go down for life", Alex finished, "with parole boards mysteriously overlooking me year after year. A pawn in their game...A bargaining chip".

"Bols, if I'd known...", Gene began.

"It's not your fault", Alex shook her head, "Really Gene... I was just as much a part of events that day as you were. Really, it's not down to you".

"But it was me who nicked the file Bols", self blaming clear in the DCI's voice.

There was a clang as a door further down the outside corridor opened and shut again.

"Shit!", Gene cursed, "Bols, I gotta go. I don't want to but my time's nearly up...the guard kindly, shall we say, went on an errand for a few minutes".

Alex nodded in sad understanding, not wanting Gene to leave.

"Now you Bolly Kecks...", Gene tried to sound encouraging, "You stay out of trouble, well, any more trouble, and I'll do my damnedest to put things right for you. I promise".

"Gene...", Alex called as Gene began to move away.

Gene turned back to see Alex offering her hand through the small gap.

He placed his own palm against hers, threading his fingers through hers and squeezing her hand gently in reassurance.

He saw her smile slightly in response. The first smile he had seen from her in a long time.

"...Thank you for being honest with me".

Gene sighed, "Thank you for not 'ating me".

"I could never hate you Gene", Alex dismissed the thought, "Now go, before you get into trouble too".

Gene nodded slowly, giving a sly wink as he shut the viewing hole leaving Alex once again shut up in the windowless cell.

* * *

"I don't know", the Indian man who led the jury pondered as he sat at the table in the deliberation room the jury were using, "I do not like her. This woman is hiding something".

The room was large, with a dark rectangular table in the centre that appeared very old.

The jury were seated around the table with several of them taking notes as they deliberated.

"Yeah but she doesn't seem like a psycho to me", a young man in his early twenties butted in.

"And how do they seem?", the Indian man enquired.

"I dunno", the man shrugged, "she just seems kinda...normal".

"That's what people say about most murderers - that they seemed normal, that they seemed like anyone else", the Indian man continued, "That Drake woman is not telling us the whole truth, I can feel it".

The young man simply shrugged.

"Well I too feel that there is something not right with this woman", an older lady in a cardigan said, "that calendar she had on her wall, all those news clippings, I ask you is that normal?".

There was a murmur of agreement as the jurors all shook their heads.

"And if there is something wrong, if she is disturbed", the woman continued, "then maybe prison is the best place for her?".

"It'd be one more nutter off the streets I say", a stocky man in his fifties agreed, "lock her up, throw away the key".

"That's not quite how I meant it", the cardigan lady continued, "I mean they could send her to one of those special prisons, you know where they send the mentally ill ones, maybe she could get help there?".

Before anyone could add anything further, the door to the jury room opened with no knocking in advance and a figure silently walked in, turning only to look at the occupants of the room.

"I thought we were not supposed to be interrupted!", the Indian juror protested.

The man walked further into the room after shutting the doors slowly behind him. He was tall, wearing a suit and a black overcoat. His hair was combed neatly and he had a moustache.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, good day to you...", the man began, "This interruption has not occurred, I am not here, and this conversation is not taking place".

"What are you talking about!?", the Indian man demanded, "this is completely against the rules! Who are you?".

"Allow me to introduce myself", the man said in his well spoken voice, "I work for her Majesties secret service, you know us as MI5...."

**To be continued....**

**End chapter 15.**

_Many thanks to Rolephant from Luigis for beta-ing._

_Many thanks to rantandrumour from Luigis for challening me to do this by the end of this week. We're nearly there!_


End file.
